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GREEN PEPPERS 



(a comedy in 3 a(5ls) 

by 
Hervey White 

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the Maverick press 
Woodcock New York 



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GREEN PEPPERS 

A DRAMA IN THREE ACTS 
COPYRIGHTED IN 1913 BY HERVEY WHITE, 



Scene: The court yard (patio) of an old Spanish man- 
sion in a small town in New Mexico. The place is now 
used as a cafe ; a grocery store has been set up in the 
old ball-room to the left. The doors on the right, lead 
to the house now occupied ])y Don Pancho and his 
family ; a fountain is in the centre ; palms and orange 
trees are around it; tables are set beneath their shade. 
As the curtain rises, there is great commotion 
among the old servants Jose, and Maria, Don Antonio, 
(a young dandy) Clotilde and Pepita, on account of the 
illness of Don Pancho in the hou^e. They bring hot 
water, cold water, fljinnels, wnrming-pans, fans, 



blankets, and are much excited. Don Antonio is es- 
pecially eager, and brings useless things as a watering- 
pot, a bear-skin rug, a large jar of water, which the 
girls put back. 

In the midst of this, enters a Mexican 
peddler with a large basket of green peppers, and calls 
out 

Green peppers! 
JosE. Hist! 

Maria. Fool! Stupid! Loafer! 
Peddler. Green Peppers! 

Pepita. Oh Mr. Peddler, please take them away; they 
are the cause of all our distress. 
Peddler. Green Peppers ! 

Maria. Hush man, not so loud. Don Pancho will 
rise from his bed. He has eaten so many now he is go- 
ing to die. Oh is me! Oh is me! (wailing). 
Clotilde. Antonio, can't you send him aw^ay? 
Antonio. Of course. Go away sir, go away. 
Peddler. Don Pancho always buys of me. They are 
good, they are crisp, they are fresh. Try them, sir. 
Taste one, break one, hear it pop. They were plucked 
not an hour ago. They are cool, they are dewy, they 
are perfect. Don Pancho adores them. Where is he? 
Pepita. He is ill; he is going to die. Already he has 
eaten too many, (cries). 

Peddler. Surely they were not from my garden. If 
Don Pancho would always buy of me, he would take 

no harm. 

Pepita. They always do him harm. He always says 

so. 

Peddler. And then lie eats more. He always tells 

me to bring them. Often he says to me, 'Pedro' he 

says - 

Clotilde. (to Antonio) Oh send him away. 

Antonio. Of course. (To peddler). Go away, sir, 

go away. 

(The- peddler does not move. Screams and groans from 

within, as of a man in great agony. All rush about 

again for bottles, liniment, salve etc. The peddler i^ 



forgotten. Antonio asks to help carry things. Pepita 

gives him a basin. Clotilde gives him another. He 

stands helpless, holding both. The groans subside. 

Enter Donya Elisa, a quiet little woman of fifty, 

dressed in black, a mantilla over her head). 

Donya Elisa. Dear Antonio, let me take the basins. 

(relieves him). How unfortunate that your visit 

should be so interrupted. 

Don Antonio. Dear Madam, 1 would gladly hold 

them all my life. 

Donya Elisa. A pair of gloves is much more suited to 

your gentlemanliness. 

Don Antonio. For you I would alwaj^s hold basins. 
Dona Elisa. You are a good boy, and will make me 

a good son. 

Don Antonio. If he dies, 1 will be a husband and a 
son to you. 

Donya Elisa. Nonsense, child; he isn't going to die. 

He has eaten too much green peppers. It ahvays af- 
fects liiin so. 

Don Antonic. Some day he may die. His groans arc 

terrible. 

Donya Elisa. I tell him he will die if he does not 

stop, but pshaw! he goes on eating them just the same. 

(Screams renewed within; cries, 'Ay Dios! Dios me 
salvera. Jesus Maria Santissima. Oh you're burning 
me. You're killing me. Elisa! Elisa! Elisa!') 
Donya Elisa. I must go to him. How slow the Doc- 
tor is in coming. I sent Pepe a half hour ago. 
Don Antonio. Shall I go, honored lady? Shall I 
fetch him? 

Donya Elisa. If you will. You are a good l)oy. Run 
for him. I must go back to my husband. He - 
(Here groans begin again. Donya Elisa goes in right, 
Don Antonio runs out back. Enter Dr. Henry Wor- 
thington, known as Don Enrique. He is thin, middle- 
aged, gentlemanly. A physician from an eastern city 
who lives in New^ Mexico for his health. Donya Elisa 
has «een him from within and runs back). 
Donya Elisa. And Antonio just gone. No matter, it 



will keep him occupied. Good day, Don Enrique. 
How do you do? Another little attack of Don Pancho. 

Doctor. Been eating 

Peddler Green peppers! 

DoNYA Elisa. Hush! Don Pancho will hear you ! 
Doctor. Off with you, fellow. Do you want to kill 
the nian? 

(The peddler is quiet, but does not budge). 
DoNYA Elisa. Yes, he has been eating them again. 
This morning he bade me cook him a dish of them. 
Doctor. Why did you not refuse? 
DoNYA Elisa. I did remonstrate. 
Doctor. Refuse! Refuse! Refuse! 
DoNYA Elisa. Why, Doctor, I am his wife. I am 
sworn to obey him. 

Doctor. Even if he asks you to kill him? Suppose 
now, he gave you his dagger and asked you to thrust 
it into his heart. Would you obey him? 
DoNYA Elisa. (weeping) Why Doctor, you know I 
would not do it. 

Doctor. But he asks you to thrust these green pejj- 
pers into his stomach, - an organ, madam, much more 
delicate than the heart. You straightway prepare him 
a huge dish of them. Is it not worse to poison j^our 
husband than to stab him? 

DoNYA Elisa. But oh, Don Enrique, he is so fond of 
green peppers. 

Peddler. These are cool, they are fresh, they are 
crisp. Indeed, I plucked them not an hour ago from 
the garden. Take one, madam; try one, sir. Plow 
they pop in your fingers ! 
Doctor. Off with you, fellow, I say. 
DoNYA Elisa. Those do look uncommonly fine, Pe- 
drito. (hesitating). If it were not that Don Pancho 
were just made ill by eating them, I would - 
(groans again and cries from within. Pepita and Clo- 
tilde rush out. Maria and Jose bring more hot water, 
flannels, etc). 

Pepita. You go in to him, dear mamma. It is terri- 
ble! What if lie should die when I was alone with 



him! Oh, Don Enrique! 

Clotilde. I barned him with the hot water. It made 
him leap almost out of his chair, (leaps). 
DoNYA Elisa. I will go in and make him ready for 
your visit, (exit right). 

Doctor. Well, Pepita, this is sad. And on the day 
of your betrothal. But cheer up, Don Pancho will be 
better. We will have him on his feet again before dark. 
You must prevent him from eating those green pep- 
pers. I have absolutely forbidden green peppers. 
Pepita. We love him so Don Enrique, and he loves 
them. 

Doctor. There. There. And he loves you still more 
than green peppers. Is it not so? 
Pepita. I think so, Don Enrique, - I - I think so. 
Doctor. Of course he does; and therefore, he must 
not pain you by eating things he should not. 
Clotilde. It pains him more than it does her. It 
makes him leap, (leaps). 

Doctor. I am not sure. Pepita suffers and keeps si- 
lent. An I to-day is your betrothal, my little sweet- 
heart. Where is the gay young lover during this tur- 
moil? 

Pepita. I don't know. I had quite forgotten him. 
Clotilde. We left him here holding two basins. One 
in each hand. So! (takes attitude of Don Antonio). 
Pepita. Here he comes nov/ and Avith the Padre. Oh 
Doctor, will my father die? Oh, save him ! 
Doctor. Nonsense, little girl! Why, how you love 
him! 

(Centre, Don Antonio and the Padre, Francisco Cabe- 
za, a thin, grave man of about thirty years.) 
Doctor. So this is Don Antonio Figueroa. I am glad 
to meet you. I hope .you are not inclined to be jealous 
for you first see me with your betrothed i.n my arms. 
Don Antonio. Is Djuya Elisa here? She sent for the 
Doctor, but I brought the priest. 

Clotilde. Oh ho! And if she had sent for the priest, 
I suppose you would have gone for the Doctor. 
l>ocTOB. Never mind, Don .\ntonio. I nm the Doc- 



tor, and I am always glad to see the Padre, Don Fran- 
cisco. 

El Padre. The Doctor is an American and yet he al- 
ways finds time for compliments. 
Pepita. That is because he is so kind. 
Clotilde. He has not complimented me this morning. 
Doctor. You are a good girl, and look like your 
mother. 

Padre. Is Don Pancho seriously ill? No, he cannot 
be, or we would not stand thus idling. I understood 
from our young friend, Don Antonio that he Avas suf- 
fering much torment of the body. There is another 
anguish, much greater. 

Clotilde. But it doesn't make you leap, (leaps). 
Padre. Ah the young ones are ever for making laugh- 
ter. Is Donya Elisa within? 

Pepita. She is with Papa. Will you take a chair, 
Padre. Here, wait, I will bring a glass of wine. (He 
sits. She brings wine. Clotilde talks with Antonio. 
The Doctor sits at the table on the right and opens 
his medicine case.) 

Pepita. There, Padre, it is the day of my betrothal. 
Drink to my happiness and, - no, no, drink to the 
health of Don Pancho. That is my happiness, Only 
that. 

Padre. You love him more than anyone else? 
Pepita. More than anyone else; and then Donya Eli- 
sa. 

Padre. And then whom do you love most after them? 
Pepita. Next? 
Padre. Yes, next. 

Pepita. The good God and His son Jesus and the 
Holy Mother. 

Padre. No, no, child! Those you love the most of 
all. But I was speaking of those who dwell upon this 
earth. 

Pepita. The Holy Mother dwells here in spirit, do 
you not think so?' 

Padre. I hope so. I pray so, daughter, often. 
Pepita. After Papa and ^lamma, I love next, - - 



Don Enrique. 

Padre. Oh, he is an American. You surely are not 

so false to your own people. 

Pepita. To nie Don Enrique is not an American. He 

is - he is of the Kingdom of Heaven. 

Padre. But now you are betrothed, you must love 

Don Antonio, your future husband. 

Pepita. Yes, Padre, but he is a little young, isn't he? 

Padre. And you next must love j^our Padre, your 

confessor. 

Pepita. Of course, it is through you I love the Blessed 

Virgin. 

Padre. Ah, Donya EHsa. Good morning. 

(Enter Donya Elisa from right.) 

DoNYA Elisa. Good morning. Padre. You find us in 

sad confusion. Ah, Pepita I see has not forgotten you. 

It is lier betrothal d-dv. You must be gracious to her 

wishes. 

Padre. (kisses Pepita's forehead) Dear daughter, 

nmy the Holy Mother guard you. 

Donya Elisa. Have you met my new son, Antonio? 

Padre. He came for me, he stopped me in the street. 

He said Don Pancho was ill, was dying. 

Donya Elisa. Ah no; it is only the green peppers. 

He is better now. He is coming out to see the Doctor. 

Padre. I am glad it is nothing serious, Donya Elisa. 

Donya Elisa. That would be sad for my little girl, 

would it not? But run over, child, and bid Antonio 

to come to us. 

Pepita. (Crosses to Antonio, who is laughing with Clo- 

tilde.) M}^ Mamma bids you to come and speak to the 

Padre. 

Antonio. Oh, yes; excuse me; of course; yes, excuse 

me. (He hurries off to Donya Elisa, but Pepita stays 

behind with Clotilde.) 

Donya Elisa. Ah, Antonio. 

Antonio. Pray excuse me, Donya Elisa. I beg your 

pardon. Padre. I was on the point of coming to you 

to pay my respects. 

(Groans and cries within. 'You great elephant - you 



are Rilling me I tell you. Gently, man, gently. Holy 
Mother ! May the fiends of hell torture j^ou everlasting- 
ly! Maria, you are a stupid old idiot. Will you stand 
by and let your blundering old husband murder me? 
May the cries of the damned haunt you both forever! 
Ohl Oh! My -My -My. Elisa! Elisa!' Enter 
then Don Pancho, being pushed along in a wheeled 
chair. He is dressed in white pajamas, a towel around 
his head. Maria attends him with a fan, salts, etc. 
and Jose pushes the chair slowly. Don Pancho is a 
fine old Spanish type of the educated aud courtly gen- 
tleman. He is gracious in his salutes to the company.) 
Don Pancho. Ah, Don Enrique, so you are here to 
kill me. As if the green peppers could not do it. And 
Don Francisco de Cadega! I salute you! Forgive me 
if I do not rise to greet you. I am stricken. You see 
a dying man before you. But calm yourself. Keep 
your bottle in your pocket. No sacred oil for rub- 
bing on my lips. If I am dying, - if this rogue of a 
doctor here does finish me, instead of oil, if j^ou have 
a little - 

Peddler. (Who all this time has been standing un- 
moved.) Green peppers! 

Don Pancho. The words come as from heaven! 
Though you, sir physician, would accredit them to the 
other place. Pedrito, you are a good boy, come hith- 
er. How is the little lass, your wife now these days? - 
Juaniata? I used to trot her on my knees. You are 
jealous now, you beggar. But get out v>ith you. Don't 
come in and interrupt the conversation of your betters. 
Peddler. (Holding up a pepper) They are beautiful, 
sir. They are cool, they are crisp. Tliey were plucked 
before the dews had left the garden. Break one, sir. 
How it pops! Will you please to smell it! They are 
tender, they are sweet, they are sweet as the lips of a 
girl. 

Don Pancho. They do look nice. But no: I shall not 
eat any more. Never! Ask the Doctor, there. No. 
Never, never, never! How is the little wife and the 
V>aby? Is your garden all flourishing this season? 



One would think so to look at these peppers. They 
are beauties, - Elisa, vrill 3-0U look at them? Perhaps 
you should take them to cook for yourselves. There is 
no reason why you should be deprived of your pleasure 
l^cause I have this cursed weakness of my body. 
Come now, Pedro, we will buy them for the mistress. 
The}^ are fine, they are juicy and savory. 
DoxYA Elisa. No, I shall not have them in the house. 
Don Pancho. What! Not prepare a dish for Pepita! 
And to-day is the festival of her betrothal. 
Pepita. Not for me, sir. I never like anything that 
gives you pain. 

Don Pancho. But also, they give me much pleasure. 
And Don Antonio will want to taste them I am sure. 
Antonio, my son, I must have you eat green peppers as 
they are prepared by your Mamma, Donya Elisa. It is 
ambrosial; it is the viands of Beulah. First, you pluck 
them in the morning when the dews are on them and 
the night air is still cool in their little bodies. These 
are very good ones, Pedro: you understand them. 
They have delicate little constitutions, these green pep- 
pers. Then give them over into the fair hands of mj^ 
goddess, Donya Elisa, the Hebe of my kitchen. How 
is it that you prepare them, my love? Tell Antonio, 
that he may estal^lish this custom in the foundations 
of his household. 

Donya Elisa. First I plunge them into a stone jar of 
salt water, 

Don Pancho. And cool, Antonio, - fresh from the 
spring in the early morning. 

Donya Elisa. Then an hour or so before the dinner, 
when I am at leisure - 

Don Pancho. Nothing hurried, you understand, An- 
tonio. They are capricious little ladies. You must 
hu7"iior them; none of your American rush business. 
Your pardon, Don Enrique. You are really a Spaniard. 
I have looked up the matter carefully; there is no mis- 
taking it. A Worthington was in Spain in the days of 
the Great Ferdinand. He came down with the English 
armv as a surgeon. It is undoub-ted that he married an 



Andalusian and their children were the ancestors of 
your family. 

Doctor. I have told you that my people came from 
the island of Nantucket. 

Don Pancho. Precisely! A Spanish sailor came there 
and settled. The Portuguese did it often, sometimes 
a Spaniard. He married an xVmerican lady, no doubt. 
Doctor. A fisherman married a lady! 
Don Pancho. My dear Don Enrique, the women of 
America are all ladies; it is their privilege, their birth- 
right, their nativity. 

Donya Elisa. Then I take a silver knife, and - 
Don Pancho. Silver, - note the silver, Antonio. No 
steel or iron shall sully these green jewels. 
Donya Elisa. And I slit them down from the point 
to the stem, just so. (Takes a pepper and shows.) I 
cut them in four pieces and then in eight. If they 
are very large, I cut them into sixteen. These are 
large, but not very large. At least, all of them are not 
very large. It is difficult to judge, as j^-qu see them in 
the basket. One must have them in the hand nnd first 
in quarters, then in eighths; then the rest is left to 
judgment. 

Don Pancho. Judgment! It is inspiration, Don An- 
tonio. If it is judgment, it is certainly inspired; you 
see the point is, the piece of pepper nuist be of such a 
size that it goes uncleft into the mouth with precisely 
the right proportion of the gravy. You must not man- 
gle the angels Avith a fork or spoon at table. As the 
pepper is cooked, so my dear son it must be eaten. 
Clotilde. According to that, Godfather, Donj^a Elisa 
would have to prepare a separate dish for each individ- 
ual according to the size of his mouth. 
Don Pancho. For you, my dear, the pieces shoula be 
thirty-seconds, but for people in general, an average 
should be taken. I should say now my mouth is about 
the average, - a trifle small, perhaps. Eh, Doctor?... 
You are an observer of anatomies and phj'siognomies. 
Or IS Don Francisco's mouth perhaps, nearer the aver- 
a.s^e? It is an old saying that a priest's belly is as ]iig 



as ten la^^nien's, - - - but a mouth - 
Pepita. Now, Papa, I love my good Padre more than 
any one. I will not let you say hard things about him. 
Don Pancho. Hear that Antonio. Heark ye\ Hear 
it! Already she loves her padre more than her hus- 
band. VV'hat will she say when she is the age of Donya 
Elisa, her Mamma? 

DoNYA Elisa. AV^hen all the peppers are cut, I take a 
sauce-pan that has been used only for green peppers, 
and has never been washed with soap. Boiling water, - 
that will clean a sauce-pan if taken in time. I alwaj^s 
make it a rule to cleanse a saucepan immediately I 
have emptied out the contents. 

Don Pancho. A housewife among a million, my dear 
Antonio, and the little girl here has been trained to the 
same method. Sb.e will make a famous wife. I. have 
always said it. Train up a child in the ways of thrift 
and industrj^, and when she is a woman, she will not 
ilepart from them. And a good wife is the prize of all 
prizes. She is man's servant, his counsellor, his guar- 
dian angel. Without her, he is - {A look of alarm 
spreading over his face, he places his liands over the 
region of his stomach.) Elisa, they are beginning! 
They are beginning] Pepita, the hot water, the mus- 
tard. Antonio, Clotilde, the ginger. Jose, A'OU whelp 
of Satan, where are you? Maria, thrust a hot iron in- 
to your beast of a husband. Dear Doctor, can't you 
do something to relieve me? Is this the end of all 
your boasted learning: and medical science? Ai! Jesus! 
Maria Santissima Madre de Dios, Misericordia ! Ai! 
Ai! (Sees peddler) Pedro, you black rascal, leave the 
house. Throw your blasted green peppers to the pigs; 
do you hear me? You are the bringer of all the evil 
upon me. Away from mj^ sight, you I'll th of devils!. 
(The i39ddler retires. Enter then Don Gregorio, Du- 
val, and George Lloyd. Don Gregorio is a tall, hand- 
some man, black beard, piercing e3^es, commanding 
ways. He dresses in black, while ever3^one else dresses 
in white or buckskin. Lloyd is a bright-eyed boy from 
an Eastern cojlego, v, Jio has come out west to be a cowr 



boy. Don Gregorio walks over to a ta^^le on the right, 
and sits down. Lloyd follows him, looking about the 
place, with the air of visiting it for the first time. 
When he sees Pepita, he is mvich smitten. The confu- 
sion is great when they enter, but immediately on see- 
ing them, Don Pancho rises proudly, without a sign of 
pain on his face, turns with a quiet dignified manner 
to his household to quiet them, does not look at the 
visitors, and says to Maria -) 

Maria, your duty to your guests. 
(He then marches out of the room into the door of the 
grocery store, left front. He is calm, gracious, but 
quite formal. The Doctor seats himself at the table, 
left; the priest remains at a table, centre, with Anto- 
nio. Pepita, Clotilde and Donya Elisa retire. The 
place is a public cafe, at once, no longer the centre of a 
family gathering.) 

Maria. (To Don Gregorio) Your commands, sir. 
Don Gregorio. (To Lloyd) You shall be first served. 
You are my guest. 

Lloyd. Can a fellow get something to eat here? 
Don Gregorio. The cuisine is excellent. (To Maria) 
What is there to-day? 

Maria. Frijoles, sir, stewed with herbs aromatic. 
Chili con Queso, sir, fresh cooked but this morning. 
Cold pork with a dish of Chih verde. 
Don Gregorio. I recommend the frijoles and chili 
verde. Donya Elisa is an artist of rare accomplish- 
ment. 

Lloyd. All right... Bring me some of everything. 
The names are too much for me to remember. I say 
but that was a doosid pretty girl. Does she live here? 
By jiminy! But she has eyes! Are all the Mexican 
girls like that? This is different from the thing one 
gets in college. 

Don Gregorio. A daughter, an adopted daughter, of 
the house. (To Maria) An absinthe... The water 
cool... Now look sharp. Will you drink anything? 
Lloyd. I never do. But aren't you going to eat any- 
thinjr? 



Don Gregorio. I never do. Leave eating to youth. 
I drink. 

Lloyd. (Looking around) I say but this is a stunner 
of a place! You'd never a thought it to see the out- 
side now, would j^ou? 

Dx\ Gr3:.orio . The Spanish houses are built for those 
within; not to malve a show^ to the beggars of the street. 
LloYD. This is what you call a patio, I suppose. Do 
the people live l)ehind these doors? Is that the house? 
Don Gregorio. Within the doors, the people, as 3^ou 
call them live. This has been a somewhat famous old 
mansion. The owner is poor now. The Yankees sent 
all this country to the devil. The old gentleman, after 
having his lands all stolen has been forced to keep a 
shop like some low tradesman, and his wife must cook 
for a restaurant. It is a turn of the wheel of fortune. 
We must bear it. 

Lloyd. Was the owner that old swell in the pajamas? 
Don Gregorgio. Don Pancho Morales... Popularly 
known as Green Peppers, from his fatal fondness for 
the dish that is before you. 

Lloyd. (To Maria) Thanks awfully! I say but it 
vsmells funny! The beans are queer, too! Oh, I long 
for a good beef-steak and some fried potatoes. Old 
United States is the cooking for me. But- Jiminy! 
That girl is a corker! 

Don Gregorio. I did not know you did cooking in 
the United States. 

Lloyd. Yon didn't? Well I guess yes! Did you ev- 
er eat an}^ pumpkin pie? 
Don Gregorio. Never. 

Lloyd. Or mince pie? Or roast turkey with cranber- 
ry sauce? 

Don Gregorio. None of them. 

Lloyd. Well, until you do, you luive never tasted 
cooking. It's bang up at the top and no use shouting. 
The girls are pretty, too; but not like this one. They 
<lon't give you cold tre^nbles and stop your appetite. 
Do you think she will come back again? 
Don Gregorio. (Listless, not paying attention. He 



has been watching the Doctor all the time, T^'ho has or- 
dered a cup of coffee and is drinking it, looking over 
some letters and papers) Ah. (Rises and goes across 
to Doctor's table, sits down. Lloyd stares at him, 
then eats, then sighs.) 

Don Gregorio, (To Doctor.) You are occupied in 
your thoughts it seems to-day. 
Doctor. Yes? 

Don Gregorio. You did not speak or bow as I en- 
tered. 

Doctor. Why, I had spoken to you outside a half 
hour ago. 

Don Gregorio. It is our Spanish custom to speak 
each time of meeting. 

Doctor. Well you being a Frenchman, and I being a 
Yankee, we might dispense with the Spanish custom, 
might we not? 

Don Gregorio. (His anger rising.) I note an increas- 
ing desire on your part to dispense with the customs of 
civility. 

Doctor. I assure j^ou, Don Gregorio, 1 have intended 
no offence. 

Don Gregorio. (Drawing out his six-shooter, laying 
it en the table, but near his hnnd.) I am sure you can 
mean no offence. If you did I have a little friend here 
who is very jealous of my honor. (Taps the revolver 
significantly.) 

Doctor. Now really, Don Gregorio, you are concern- 
ing yourself unnecessarily about this matter. I had no 
intention of avoiding j^our company. We gentlemen 
are too few in this desert to find advantage in avoiding 
each other. Neither must you hope to frighten me 
me with j^our little friend there. I too, carry my little 
friend. (Tapping his medicine case.) And the next 
time your Malaria is oppressing you, who shall say hoAV 
this little friend may decide when it comes to prescrib- 
ing you a physic? 

Don Gregorio. You are a clever fellow, and have 
your sense of humor. I have not the sense of humor 
that vou have. 



Doctor. No, j^ou are suffering from a liver. You are 
bilious. Believe me, Don Gregorgio, if you were to 
put yourself on a rigid diet, if you were to drink less, 
smoke less, eat less chili, you vrould not longer be 
haunted with these suspicions. 

Don Gregorio. My suspicions have other grounds 
than chili. You w^ere different toward me a month 
ago, - quite different- 

Doctor. I insist I am not, nor have I reason to he dif- 
ferent. What could have changed me? What could 
have come up between us? I have known you since 
1 came here three years ago. You, yourself, told me 
all the bad things 1 know about you, as you tell them 
to e\^erybody when you meet them. To-day I saw^ you 
with your friend there. I do not know him. I bowed - 
Don Gregorio. He is a boy... I picked him up in 
Sante Fe. He is a mother's darling who has just come 
Out "of college. He comes from your .section. Come 
and meet him. 

Doctor. Gladly... But v>hat are you. going to do with 
him? 

Don Gregorgio. I? Nothing... I give him over to 
you. He bores me. For two days, I Avas amused with 
his fresli chatter. Now I find it is endless repetition. 
Doctor. I will join you. I shall like his appetite, at 
least. (They rise, and cros^ right.) 
Don Gregorio. Mr. Lloyd, Dr. Worthington, j^our 
countryman. Mr. Lloyd is from Jersey City. 
Lloyd. I'm froni Princeton. 

Doctor. Ah, indeed! I'm from Williams, but long 
ago. 

Lloyd. Jiminy!.. 1 didn't expect to meet su man}^ 
educated men out here in the wikh of New Mexico. 
Right here in tiiis little mud village, I find tvro the 
first pop. Don't it beat you? Mr. Duvnl here is a 
])ang-UD scholar from Paris, and you are a graduate 
from William^. Are you a graduate? 
Doctor. A. B. '89 nt your service. 
Lloyd. I am only a sophomore in Princeton. I ran 
out of eye-sight, lost my h<'alth, and came vrest to he a 



cow-boy and make my pile. I thought I'd be lonely 
out here and the first thing I fell in with two college 
men. Ain't it funny? And a pretty girl, too! But 
the food is queer, isn't it? Now say! 
Doctor. Speaking of educated men, you should meet 
our host, Senyor Morales. He has degrees from a half 
dozen universities. Reads French, Italian, German, 
English poetry and writes not a bad stanza in any of 
those languages. In Spanish, he is somewhat known, 
and has published his volumes. I don't pretend to fol- 
low half his learning, and even Don Gregorio here, ad- 
mits he is sometimes worsted. 

Lloyd. What, the old bloke in pajamas who keeps 
the restaurant? 

Doctor. The same... But we are interrupting your 
dinner. (To Maria) My cup of coffee, Maria. (She 
brings it over.) Don Gregorio, a cigarette. (He hands 
his case to Don Gregorio who takes one and lights it.) 
Don Gregorio. Thanks. 

Lloyd. I saw you taking out j^our pistol. May I see 
it? 

Don Gregorio. It is not considered good form in this 
country to ask to see or to show one's shooting irons. 
Lloyd. I beg pardon. Excuse me. - 1 am sure. But 
you were showing your gun to Dr. Worthington. 
Don Gregorio. A reminder of a little wager that is 
f)etween us. We have a wager as to which will kill 
the other first. 

Lloyd. Why! Do you do that sort of thing out here? 
Really kill people, I mean? 
Don Gregorio. Men; not women. 
Lloyd. Really I say now, this is the real thing. This 
is what I have been looking for. I went to Texas but 
it was as tame, - as tame as Brooklyn. Then I came 
here, and now I find you. Is it good form to ask if 
you ever killed a man? 

Don Gregorio. That, neither, is considered good 
form. 

Lloyd. Whew! Now in Texas it's the first thing you 
nsk. But. pshaw! It's only bluflf! Now this is dif- 



ferent. 1 have a fine thing, myself in the way of a re- 
volver, but of course if it's not good form to show it, - 
why - 

Don Gregorio Show me the muzzle of it sometime, 
if you don't like my game. Until then, keep the toy 
in your pocket. 

Lloyd. I like you. Can I shake hands before I shoot 
you? (Offers his hand) It's comfortable to know 
there'll never be hard feelings. 

Don Gregorio. I am sure we shall both keep the 
feelings of gentlemen in the matter. 
Lloyd. Jiminy, but it nmst be a good feeling to have 
killed a man! A sort of self-respect it gives, and 
raison d'etre. Did it set you up Dr. Worthington? I 
mean the first one. I beg pardon. I - excuse my 
bad form, will you? I am a tenderfoot, and don't un- 
derstand these little niceties. 

Doctor. No apology is needed I assure you. In the 
best circles, it is permissible to joke a Doctor on the 
number of men he has settled. 

Lloyd. Oh, I didn't mean that way. I meant with 
the gun. I say it must be a curious situation. To 
shoot a man, not kill him, and then dress up his 
wounds. 

Don Gregorio. Oh, even here in La Guara, do not 
understand we are always shooting each other. If we 
were, there would Ite nobody left. Now the Doctor 
and I may sit together for years and drink our coffee 
and be the best of boon companions. I hope we shall 
for my part. Don Enrique, here's to a long period of 
friendship, before I shoot j^ou. 

Doctor. Thanks! May you never have malaria again 
until a week before that period arrives. (They drink.) 
Lloyd, Jiminy! But you fellows are cool i\h(mt it, 
now say! 

Doctor. In the west, we do a great deal of small talk. 
It is a different form from that you have in the States. 
Don Gregorio. And as I say, even if the affair 
comes to guns, there is usually no shooting in the mat- 
ter. It is western etiquette if a man gets the drop on 



you, to put up your hands and do as he wishes. Nor 
is there any particular disgrace attached to the matter. 
Why, even here, with our host, old Green Peppers, I 
once covered him for a walk of thirty miles. Yet I 
bear him no ill-will about the matter, and he, at least, 
does not forbid me his hospitality. 

Lloyd. What! Don Pancho, who speaks so many 
languages? 

Don Gregorio. Even he. Education has no armor 
to keep out bullets. 

Lloyd. I'd like awfully to hear about it. I would 
really, but I beg pardon. I suppose it is not good 
form. 

Don Gregorio. In this case, I have no objection to 
telling you of the matter. It was long ago, fourteen 
years ago; no, - fifteen. Some trouble about his daugh- 
ter. He thought her insulted. 

Lloyd. (Pulling out his revolver, but not pointing it.) 
I say if it is true that you ever insulted that little girl 
of his, I will shoot you, and like a dog where I find 
you. I won't have any man, I don't care who - (shak- 
ing his gun.) 

Don Gregorio. (Putting aside the revolver gently.) 
You are a short-horn, that is evident. You know 
nothing about these little matters. If you draw your 
gun, take a bead, do you understand? Don't wave it 
round your head like a pocket-handkerchief. 
Lloyd. I may be a green-horn as you say, but I tell 
you if you say anything against that little girl - 
Don Gregorio. Pshaw! Did I not tell yon this was 
nearly fifteen years ago. She was fourteen, only to- 
day, you great big booi^y. I have my own reasons for 
protecting the little girl. Of that you will soon learn if 
you stay in La Giiara. But of that another time. I 
Avas speaking of Don Pancho and how he, like you, 
knew nothing of the rules of shooting. (Takes a drink, 
smokes meditatively a few puffs. ) I was coming from 
Santa Fe across the desert about thirty miles from 
home. I was still on the trail Avhen I saw a little 
twinkling light ahead of me. It was like the sun on a 



drop of dew I thought. Only, at mid-day there is not 
any dew in the desert. I watched it. It disappeared. 
I sat and waited. Then I rode on a few paces, but 
kept my eyes on the spot. Then I saw it again. It 
was near the trail. It might be the gleam of a gun- 
barrel. Some people are so stupid in these matters. 
I turned my horse out from the trail, skirted a little 
hill, and came in on a point that would overlook my 
dew-drop. There lay old Don Pancho on his belly, 
his rifle pointed out across the trail. I slipped off my 
horse to get nearer. When I had my bead, I said, 
'Get up old man.' I rode into La Guara, but he 
walked. How he sweat, but not a groan from his old 
liver! I carried his rifle on his saddle. I have it yet. 
He knows little about killing. (He sees Lloyd has 
pushed back his plate.) Have you finished your din- 
ner? Shall we go now? I will show you the rifle, 
some day, when you come to see me. 
Lloyd. I will pay the bill first. 

Don Gregorio. No, no! I have an account here. 
Maria, the gentleman comes as my guest. 
Maria. Yes, sir. 

Don Gregorio. Are j^ou off now. Doctor, or will you 
stay? 

Doctor. I would like a word first with Donya P^lisa. 
Don Gregorio. Never miss an opportunity of speaking 
with a lady. Till we see you again. 
Doctor. So long. (To Lloyd.) I shall hope to wel- 
come you to my humble lodgings later. I am very 
glad to have met you. We are lonely out here, and a 
new friend is a pleasure to us always. Especially, 
when he is a young friend. We are too old here in 
New Mexico, too old. (Don Gregorio and Lloyd go 
out.) 

Maria. Don Pancho wishes you to stay, Don En- 
rique. 

Donya Elisa. (Enters from right hurriedly.) Maria, 
you maj^ look now to the dinner. (Exit Maria.) 
Don Enrique, a word v^ith you, a moment. That 
man! Did he make any threats? . I mean ahout Pepi- 






I am in SEicii larmen:. 1 ^as afraid he 

ect to her bctroUuLl- K be speaks, it will 

Paneho! It waikffl him! And it will kiO 

--^ ?-rd kill Pepita - kill us all! Oh, I am soch a 

.;lle wre€ch, Don £niiq[iie. When I saw him oh 

:i gave me sach a fright, - and Don Pancho! I 

have never seen him stiffen quite so miM^. Does he 

suspect, do yon think, Don Enrkjoe? Oh, I am a 

miseerable, miseiaMe woman. I watciied j«n from my 

-— low yonder, I saw him take oat has pistol and tap 

::iesily as be spoke to yon. Tell me, are yoa de- 

.^ ">^ Are yoQ? I seem to feel a sword abore 

r ^ Everv inom«Qt I think that it will fall. I 



_me- 



-.rt *- ->. 



]>05 Pancho. Ah. I>?ii Ennq^e, I wished yon to 

?iay to our fe?:' — ' -^-^--j: i^-'/^s Elisa.) What 

Elisa! What is ^ ^ ciying? 

?• vYA EusA- - -i-^ t?en tdiing me <rf 

- T -'^.T>ei5? of lit:. Ah. it is so sad. Poor 

*- - .:^. bat nnwiHing to ^ww it-) 

Ye= - - - ^se. Doctor? 

Doer-. .-_.- --- . B:i: :: i? h 

one's pity. 

D:^ ^ " ~ ^^- Yes. _^: i-:y - i , - - :::z: 

i T :i. But it is a day to make merry. 



Dox AyTo:«o- {C - 1 sir. 

I was tjilVing wi: .^e. 

DosTA EusI . Were vc-n ihrr? all the tinae? 

Did yon her - t>s, f 

PAiiir, ^X- -- ^ Dan -• ■ ~ lisiening lo 

me, Dcsnya Eisai, I was re r of the tnsls 

<4 my }«cybood, 

IkoTTA EiiSA. A «ia 



i;liuuse IjLil li.steu. 

(Enter Pcpita and Clotilde, hand in hand.; 
Pepita, Did 3'OU call, Papa? Has your illness not 
3'et left 3^ou? 

Don Pancho. I wanted you child, for our little re- 
union. How could my illness remain when this is 
your festival? Come and kiss me, and tell me how 
much you love me. 

Pepita. Why j^our hand shakes! I think you are 
still suffering. 

Don Pancho. I always suffer, little one, when you 
are not with me. 

Pepita. But I am never going away from you, never. 
That is the reason I am going to marry Antonio, isn't 
it? Because he is willing always to stay with 3^ou? 
Don Pancho. Nonsense! Is that why little girls mar- 
ry? You are marrying him child, because you love 
him. Of course, I love him, too, and am glad that 
he will always stay with us. 

Pepita. Oh, yes, I love him, of course. So does Clo- 
tilde. She loves him more than I do. Look at them 
now together. And he likes her. It's nice to have 
one's husband love one's dearest friend, isn't it Papa? 
Don Pancho. Yes, yes, child; I suppose it is; cer- 
tainly. Your mother was different, I remember. 
Pepita. Who was that handsome white boy that 
came in with Don Gregorio, Papa? 
Don Pancho. I do not usually pay much attention to 
the friends of Don Gregorio Duval. 
Pepita. That was a pity, for this one was very hand- 
some. That is, he was nice looking. He had such 
pink cheeks. And I think he must have a loving 
heart. 

Don Pancho. Child, child, what do you know of peo- 
ples' hearts? 

Pepita. I know that some are not so black as people 
tlunk them. Don Gregorio's always shows some 
white to me. 

Don Pancho. We will not speak of - of the person 
von mention to-dnv. When vou nre mnrried to Anto- 



nio, i will ask your mother to tell you why I do not 
wish you to speak of him. Then you wall understand, 
you wdll be able to understand. And ihen of your own 
accord, you not only will cease speaking of him to me, 
but you will prevent all others from speaking of him 
that you can, and you will never allow his name to 
pass your lips. 

Pepita. There Papa, I will never do so now. I shall 
not wait till Mamma can tell me. It was wilful of me 
to speak so to annoy you. But it is I think, because I 
love you so dearly, that I know how dearly you can 
love, perhaps, that I want you to love everybody, - ev- 
erybody, to make them happy, just as you do me. 
Don Pancho. There, little one; there, little one. So 
you love the old man, do you? Well, well, we will 
give you a good husband and see you happy. Antonio 
is a good boy. You will love him. 
Pepita. Why do you w^ant me to marry so quickly? 
Other girls do not marry so early, do they? 
Don Pancho. It is better when they do. Much better. 
Pepita. Sometimes I think of my real father and 
mother, as if they were living. I seem to feel them in 
the world of living beings. They watch me and care 
for me in secret. I feel their eyes. I feel their prayers, 
their kisses. 

(The Padre, who has been talking with the others, 
suddenly rises and comes forward, as if drawn irresisti- 
bly.) 
Padre. Did you call me, my daughter? I thought I 

heard you. 

Pepita. No, Padre. I did not mean to call you. I 
was only talking to Papa. 

Don Pancho. She was making me her father confess- 
or, Don Francisco. Go away now. Don't be jealous. 
Don't be jealous. 

Padre. I am not jealous of you, Don Pancho, nor of 
Antonio. I plead pardon for interrupting. I was mis- 
taken. (Retires to the others.) 

Pepita. I think he is like my father who is living. 
There is such gentleness and protection in his eyes. I 



suppose it is because he is everybody's father! His 
h3art is only familiar Avith father's love. Why do you 
not go to him in confession, Papa? Mamma goes often 
and finds great comfort. 

Don Pancho. Your little mouth gives me all the conj- 
lort I can ask for. 

Pepita. But that is earthly comfort, - not the comfort 
of heaven. The two are different. I know them both 
quite well. 

Don Pancho. Ah little dove with so much wisdom! 
Pepita. The dove is wise. Wiser than the serpent. 
I think dove's wisdom is the wisdom of the women and 
the serpent's is wisdom of the men. 
Don Pancho. At all events I must kiss you for your 
thmking. (Kisses her, holding her face in his hands.) 
Tell me, do you love your black old Papa? 
Pepita. You are not black. And if you were, I 
should love you. 

Don Pancho. If I were black as ink, - black as sin, 
would you love me? 

Pepita. If you were black, sin would be another col- 
or; red, perhaps. Some say sin is red. 
Don Pancho. My little dove! I think you really 
love me. 



Pepita. Do you want me to tell 3^ou a secret? 

Don Panciho. Something that you would not even tell 

when at confession? 

Pepita. I have told at the confession already. But 

no one else, not even Clotilde knows. That is, if Clo- 

tilde knows, I have not told her. That is, I have not 

told her in words. 

Don Pancho. Well, and what is this secret shared by 

three? Let me be a fourth to guard its keeping. 

Pepita. If you speak jestingly of it, I shall not tell 

3'OU. It is a secret that nobody knows but me and I 

was proposing to tell you as one other. 

Don Pancho. But Don Francisco de Cabeza knows, 

doesn't he? 

Pepita. Not as Don Francisco, but as the Padre. He 

represents G-od and God is not a person. 



Don Pancho. i see. Then there is only Ciotilde. 
And Ciotilde doesn't really know. 

Pepita. She knows, but I haA^e not told her. There- 
fore, she doesn't know in the way I mean. She knows 
because she has the wisdom of the dove. 
Don Pancho. Now I am satisfied. Whisper now your 
secret. (Bends his head). 

Pepita. No I shall not whisper it, for then if I get so 
near 1 shall only kiss 3'ou, and not tell at all. No, I 
shall speak it out strongly as from principle. 
Don Pancho. Only not too loud because then Antonio 
might hear. 

Pepita. No: for it is about Antonio. 
Don Pancho. Oho, is it? Then who else is it about? 
Pepita. It's about him and you. 

Don Pancho. I see, and maybe a little bit about you, 
too. 

Pepita. There I shall not tell yoy after all. You 
know already. You are just hke Ciotilde. 
Don Pancho. The serpent then is not so different 
from the dove? 

Pepita. The serpent is different. Only the wisdom 
is the same. 

Don Pancho. Please tell me. 
Pepita. I will not. 
Don Pancho. Please, please. 

Pepita. Never! We will now sir, change the subject. 
Tell me again of my parents, Are they really dead? 
Yes, yes, I know they are dead. You have told me so 
often, but tell me the story again. 

Don Pancho. Your father was a gentleman, a gentle- 
man, and your mother, his wife, was a lady. Of their 
history there is very little knoAvn. They came up from 
the City of Mexico, and had l>een in Santa Fe but a 
week Avhen they were stricken with smallpox and died 
there. You escaped without contracting the disease. 
Your father was in Santa Fe on luisiness, and had no 
relatives or friends in that city. In the liaste of their 
burial at the pest-house, his clothes were burned with- 
out any one's learning his address or any of the par- 



ticiilars of his family. Donya Elisa was in the city 

visiting her sister; when hearing of your loneliness and 

friendlessness, she took you up and wrote me asking if 

she could adopt you. I came on, - 

Pepita. And loved me as soon as you saw me. 

Don Pancho. There now for the hundredth time, you 

have the story. 

Pepita. And there isn't any cock and bull in it! I'm 

so glad. 

Don Pancho. Any cock and bull? 

Pepita. But tell me was my mother's name Estella? 

Don Pancho. (nmch moved) Hush child. Where 

did you hear such a name? There is no such a name 

in all the saints' daj^s. It is impossible that any one 

could have such a name. Your mother's name was 

Catalina. Catalina Rodriguez, and your father's name 

w^as Gabriel, Don Gabriel. (growing more excited) 

Cock and bull! Cock and bull! Elisa! Cock and 

bull ! Elisa ! Come here ! 

Pepita. Oh, Papa, it was nothing. It was nothing. 

Some gossip Clotilde overheard. 

Don Pancho. Who is gossiping? What did Clotilde 

overhear? 

Pepita. Merely Maria and Anna in the kitchen. It 

was nothing, dear Papa, it was nothing. (Goes to 

stroke his clieek.) 

Don Pancho. Keep off your hands. Don't touch me. 

Ehsa! 

Pepita. Papa! 

Donya Elisa. (Running forw^ard, much frightened, 

the others following.) Pancho, what is it? Are you 

ill again? 

Don Pancho. Woman, on your knees. I want j^our 

oath. Quick on your knees. I say down! 

Donya Elisa. (Kneeling at his feet.) Pancho, what 

is it? What is it? 

Don Pancho. Swear to me that it is true what you 

have often told me, the story of Pepita 's parents in 

Santa Fe. Swear it before these friends assembled and 

your priest. Swear as you believe in God and hope for 



(Weeping) It is true all I have told 
Ai! Don't kill me. 
Swear, on your oath. 

On my oath, I swear. 
What do you swear? 

That all I have told you is true. Ai 



Heaven. 

DoNYA Elisa. 

you Pancho. 

Don Pancho. 

DoNYA Elisa. 

Don Pancho. 

DoNYA Elisa. 

Dios! 

Don Pancho. Repeat after me, I Elisa, as 1 believe 

in God, as I hope for Heaven, swear' - 

DoNYA Elisa. I, Elisa, as I believe in God, as I hope 

for Heaven, swear. 

Don Pancho. 'That all that I have told my husband 

concerning the parents of the child Pepita is true' - 

DoNYA Elisa. That all that I have told my husband 

concerning the parents of the child Pepita is true. 

Don Pancho. 'That their names were Gabriel and 

Catalina Rodriguez' 

DoNYA Elisa. That their names were Gabriel and 

Catalina Rodriguez - 

Don Pancho. 'That they died in the pest-house of 

Santa Fe' - 

DoNYA Elisa. 

Santa Fe - 

Don Pancho. 

cerning them' 

DoNYA Elisa. 

cerning them. 

Don Pancho. 'That if I have ever spoken aught to the 

contrary either to the Doctor or the father confessor, it 

was false, wicked and wilful lies' - 

Padre. (Trying to interfere) Don Pancho - 

Don Pancho. Back, you black robe of Satan. Elisa, 

repeat ! 

DoNYA Elisa. I did say it. I have forgotten it. Oh, 

Pancho, you kill me. 

Don Pancho. Repeat! 

DoNYA Elisa. I forget. I forget. 

Don Pancho. 'That if I have ever spoken aught to 

the contrarv, either to the Doctor, or to the father con- 



That they died in the pest-house of 
'That I know no more than this con- 
That I know no more than this con- 



fessor, it was false, wicked and wilful lies' 
DoNYA Elisa. That if I have ever spoken aught to I he 
contrary, either to the Doctor - (hesitates) 
Don Pancho. Or to the father confessor in confession - 
DoNYA Elisa. Or to the father confessor in confes- 
sion - 

Don Pancho, It was false, wicked and wilful lies' - 
DoNYA Elisa. It was false, Avicked and wilful lies. 
Don Pancho. 'So help me God.' 
DoNYA Elisa So help nie God. 
Don Pancho. 'Amen.' 
DoNYA Elisa. Amen. 

Don Pancho. (After a silence, his face calming, re- 
suming his former gracious manner.) Friends, let us 
sit down to our feast. It is to celebrate the betrothal 
of our beloved daughter. Jose, Maria, bring wine. 
Elisa, be so kind as to order dinner. Antonio, mj^ son. 
Pepita. Papa, papa, kiss me. (runs to him). 
Don Pancho. The - the - time for that will come 
later on. 

Pepita. Kiss me now. Kiss me now. 
Don Pancho. (First hesitates, then is about to yield, 
breaking into sobs. Then he controls himself, puts 
her away firmly.) Not yet; in due time. Antonio, 
my son, it gives me gieat pleasure to say to you that 
although to-day I give you the hand of mj' adopted 
daughter, that I can affirm that she is a lady without 
stain upon her name, that her parents were gentle peo- 
ple, bound in wedlock. (He looks at Pepita 's eyes, 
quails, but with strong effort, regains control.) 
Friends, gentlemen, to the table, to the festival. Let 
good cheer be the guest of every heart. 

(They seat themselves at the table that has been pre- 
pared back centre, aud are l)eing served, when Lloyd 
enters). 

Lloyd. I beg pardon; I seem to be interrupting. 
Don Pancho. You are... It is the festival of my 
daughter's betrothal. 

Pepita. No, no Papa. It is my feast, and even a 
beggar shall be welcome. Much more a stranger and a 



gentleumn. 

Lloyd. I beg pardon. 

Pepita. You shall not go. I will not have it. This 

is your house, sir. What are your orders? 

(All are stupefied at her daring. Even Don Pancho 
is check-mated. Enter then Don Gregorio in a pas- 
sion, conies forward, glances around, sees Lloyd, the 
Doctor and all, sits down to a table, right front, and 
orders.) 

Don Gregorio. Waiter, bring wine. 
Don Pancho. (To Don Gregorio.) Sir, we are as- 
sembled at a festival; will you be good enough to leave 
the house to us? It is a family affair. I beg you will 
excuse us. 

Don Gregorio. Oh-ho, a family affair, is it? May I 
ask what is the occasion? 

Don Pancho. It is the betrothal of our daughter Pepi- 
ta. 

Don Gregorio. In that case, who should be here 
more than I? At what time is it more fitting that her 
father - 

Donya Elisa. Don Gregorio! 
Don Pancho. Sir! 

Don Gregorio. She is my daughter as the whole vil- 
lage knows. You alone have eyes for blindne^^s, vrhen 
you will not see. Ask the Doctor, ask the Padre, ask 
her Grandmother. She is my daughter, and your 
daughter is her mother, Estella. 
Don Pancho. Sir, leave this house ! 
Don Gregorio. On the contrary, I shall stay as long 
as I choose. Waiter, wine! 

Don Pancho. Jose, go for the Mayor, immediately. 
Don Gregorio. Yes, Jose, run for the Mayor. He 
will tell you that I have as good a right here as any. 
This is not a private house, but a public restaurant. 
The Mayor, himself has issued you the license. Turn 
me out old Green Peppers. I should like to see you. 
Maria, bring more wine. I drink to my - 
Don Pancho. Jose! Stop! 
Jose. Your orders, sir. 



Don Pancho. Bring fire from the kitchen. Burn the 
house! Maria, there is petroleum in the store. Turn 
it over the floors and on the woodwork. 
Jose. Sir! 

Don Pancho. Do as 1 bid you. 
DoNYA P]LiSA. Pancho! 

Doctor. Surely, Don Pancho, you are not in earnest. 
You Avill Inirn the house over our heads! 
Don Pancho. This house has been disgraced. I have 
disgraced it. I have taken the home inherited from 
my ancestors, and have sold it for the bauble of a liv- 
ing. I was not proud enough or strong enough to 
starve. I have pawned my heritage. I have made it 
a common tavern. Let it burn! (Enter Jose with 
fire.) Jose, do as I have bid you. (Jose runs into 
shop; fire gleams through windows, sparkles, burns; 
w^omen scream.) Now friends, let us drink a glass 
together. To our fathers, and may they feel the joy 
of vengeance ! 

(Fire burns up.) 

(Curtain) 



ACT 11 



Scene: The interior of an old Spanisli mi?s"on church 
looking down the nave toward the altar. The place is 
weather-worn, the plaster streaked and stained. Faint 
lights are burning before some of the images, otherwise 
the place is in darkness. The time is ten o' clock in 
the evening of the same day as Act I. A moment af- 
ter the curtain rises, Don Gregorio enters with a lan- 
tern and a basket. He wears a long black cloak and 
might easily be mistaken for the priest. 

Don Gregorio. (Addressing the church.) Well, old 
ship, I still feel at home on your deck. If it had not 
been for that meddlesome old Don Pancho, I might 
yet be under my own roof, instead of coming in like a 
burglar. Now his roof is down about his ears. What a 
fiery old pepper he is anyway. For all he is my ene- 
my^ and I fight him, I confess I rather like the old fel- 
low. After all, he didn't do me such a bad turn in 
getting me turned out of the church. I am freer than 
I was, much freer. I have my time, my individuality, 
my character and the snug little pile of silver in the 
crypt here. I shall tap it presently. There is no hur- 
ry. I have the place to myself to-night. All the vil- 
lage is gathered around its burning hacienda. Afire 
will draw a crowd, or a murder. An act of virtue, the 
building of a temple, a few stragglers may idle about it 
curiously. As for me, I have seen houses burn before. 
Also, I have seen men murdered. Well, to business. 
(He takes a bar from under his cloak, pries up one of 
the stones of the pavement, slips it aside, sits down on 
the edge about to jump down when a glance up the 
church recalls his memories.) An excommunicated 



prie::?t who stole the chureh plate and still has a part 
of it hidden! That little silver, what is it? I am not 
excommunicate, nor can be. I defy Rome. I defy 
old Green Peppers. Wait! (He sets down his lantern 
and runs down the nave, back, then he goes out into 
the vestry, right back, and enters again, arra3dng him- 
self in the robes of the priest. He starts toward the al- 
tar, as though beginning the ceremony of the Mass.) 
Ha! Old Green Peppers, 3'Our roof is tumbhng about 
your ears. Mine still casts protecting shadow. (A 
noise outside, he run^ forward, wearing the robes, and 
covers up his lantern.) Now what is this business in- 
terrupting? (A noise of unlocking the door, he jumps 
down into the trap, and lowers door over his head. 
Enter then the Padre, the Doctor, and Don Pancho. 
The Padre and the Doctor are almost dragging the old 
man in who is much excited and half crazed with 
grief.) 

Don Pancho. In the Devil's name, what do I in a 
church? I see little priestling, you w^ould mock me. 
A priest makes a harlot of my daughter; a priest is the 
father of my baby. So you bring me to the church to 
give me shelter, Perhaps you will tell me now my 
mother was a strumpet, and that I have a priest to 
thank for mj^ existence. Your boast that the church 
is the mother of us all is a little muddled. You should 
say the father. You mistake the sex. Don Enrique, 
I thought better of you than to bring me here. Your 
father was not a priest in America, was he? 
Doctor. You refuse to enter my rooms or any of the 
houses of your neighbors. 

Don Pancho. You had that - that bastard in there. 
You know you did. 
Doctor. Pepita? 

Don Pancho. x\y, Pepita, Anita, Clotildita, Jtianita, 
Ninyita. All of the itas. They are bastards all. Their 
fathers are priests. I suppose Don Francisco, your 
confessional - 

Padre. (Interrupting) In Heaven's name, cease 
your blasphemy. 



Don Panchu. Hoity-toit}^ What virtue all of a sud- 
den. I suppose you think the saints up there will 
warm with blushes. Now you are a priest, you must- 
put on a mask of piety like them all. It was not so 
when you were a young student. I remember now you 
were like the rest of the young men, ogling around that 
thing I called my daughter. 
Padre. In Holy Mary's name. 

Don Pancho. From the day I knew, her name has 
not crossed my lips. Nor have my ears allowed its en- 
trance at their portals. That little thing, my baby, 
spoke it to-day. Had it been put into her mouth by 
Donya Elisa, or was it the sin, the lust, the crime that 
fires her blood? My baby, Avhat a fool I was to say it. 
A bastard like them all. I hate all babies. 
Doctor. You are violent; calm yourself, Don Pancho. 
Don Pancho. Ay, I am violent. 1 am weak. I am 
an old man, Don Enrique, in my prattling, second 
childhood. A priest has begotten that as he does the 
first ones. It has aged me, this blow, my strength all 
trembles. Time was when I was strong and knew my 
birthright. When my daughter sinned, I cast her off 
and stood alone. To-night, I have been doddering out 
her name. The other's name, too, I have mentioned. 
In the morning, I shall be stronger, you shall see. 
I will call my wife and walk into the desert. The 
house is down. I have not that to tempt me. 1 will 
go up to the mountains among the Indians. There are 
caves there. The wild beasts shall be my guests. They 
know kings there; but they have no priests, nor 
churches. 

Padre. Come within. I will prepare a bed for you 
to rest. 

Don Pancho. So you have a bed here, do you? No 
pr'e-t's bed for me. It is perhaps the one D(»n Grego- 
rio left you. Or did he take beds as well as dishes and 
wardrobe? Don Gregorio now was a thief among 
thieves. A priest of priests, you may call him; for 
not contented with robbing everyone else, he must 
needs rob himself and his ow^n house. He stole his 



own dishes, he stole his own wives; he finallj^ stole his 
own house and his position. As I did mine in another 
way. But he lives and flourishes, curse him, curse 
him! Oh to think he should come into my house. 
Mine! And I endure him, and my wife plead for him, 
plead for him. Oh I know why she harbored him. 
Defended him... She was in the power of his secret. 
Her secret... Secret! It was known throughout the 
village. It has been the servants' gossip here for years. 
Don Enrique, you knew it. Deny it not. Don't j^ou 
stand there, and lie into my teeth. 
Doctor. Why should I lie to you now, Don Pancho, 
when I can save you no pain by so doing? I have 
known since the first week of my coming to La Guara. 
Don Gregorio himself told me some three years ago. 
Don Pancho. And you have pretended to be my 
friend! Oh you traitor! You snake in the grass! 
You are all snakes! Francisco, you too, you did not 
tell me. 

Padre. I did not; I mean, - it might not have been 
true. It was Don Gregorio's word I had merely. We 
all know he is a liar, as well as a thief. We all know 
he has been thrust from the bosom of the church. 
Don Pancho. Oh this church, church, church. It al- 
ways gets into the conversation for a man to stumble 
over. You say yon did not know Pepita was my 
daughter's child? Did not my Avife tell you when she 
brought her here? Oh that story of the pest-house and 
the Rodriguez! 

Padre. That I knew. But I was speaking of Don 
Gregorio. That he is the - - 

Don Pancho. Oh, that, everybody knows, dovrn to 
the boys in the street. Even I know that, old Mind 
fool that I am. Oh, pish, pish Francisco, you are 
weak in your arguments. 

Doctor. Come, come, Don Pancho. You must take a 
little rest. It is late; we are all tired. Come, go to 
bed. 

Don Pancho. Man, look at me. Do I look as if I 
could rest? Put a man on the rack. Your dear church 



has a rack, has it not P'rancisco? Strap his hands and 
his feet to the frames, and then rlutch your barbed 
hooks into his heart : then turn the wheel: turn, 
you damned priest, Don Gregorio. Then, you. Doctor, 
come and bid me to re.-t. By the fiends of Hell, I will 
cry out my agonies. Rave? Yes, I rave. Would you 
not rave in my place? Oh, I loved that little girl, 
that baby. At first, not. It was Elisa who loved her 
then. But as she grew, - as she climbed about my 
knees, - her little voice babbling like a rivulet! Once, 
she fell ill. You were here, Enrique. You save^l her 
life. Why did you not kill her? 

DocroK. I wish I had killed her father. I now wish 
it. 

Padre. He is accursed! There is no power to kill 
him. Except the one tliat waits on him above. 

(Enter Jose with blankets). 
Jose. Donya Elisa sends you this blanket, sir. and 
asks if you are comfortable. 

Don Pancho. Oh, yes, I am comfortable, thanks to 
the bed she has prepared for me. Take the blanket up 
to the altar there, and burn it. 

Doctor. I object. That is my blanket. I recognize 
it. Donya Elisa has taken it from the bed I gave her. 
Don Paxcho. Then Jose, take the blanket back to Don- 
ya Elisa. No, stay a minute. Why go to those women? 
Come here, Jose. I want a promise from you. 
Jose. I am your slave, sir. I will die to ser^-e your 

bidding. 

Don Pancho. It is not death I ask. It is free living. 

Listen. You have a wife, Jose. 

JosE. Maria, sir; you blessed us at the marriage. 

Don Pancho. I did wrong. It Avas a curse that I put 

on you. 

Jose. Sir! 

Don Pancho. You must give her up, Jose. All 

women are false and vile. 

Jose. Maria has been a true wife to me. 

Don Pancho. You think so but some day you will 

find out she has been juggling with Don Gregorio or 



some priest here. Don Francisco de Cabeza is a sly 
youth. 
Jose. Sir! 

Don Pancho. Give her up before you suffer as i suf- 
fer. Hencefortli we will walk alone like Don Enrique. 
By Jove, the doctors and the priests know the women. 
Come, Jose, I want you to swear. 
Jose. Swear? Sir? 

Don Pancho. Swear to give up your wife. To never 
see her again. Henceforth, let her name not pass vour 
lips. 

Jose. If you connnand it, Don Pancho, 1 know no 
other law than to obey. I came to you a young man, 
you remember, in the happy days when you and Don- 
ya Elisa - 

boN Pancho. Tush! Tush! Do you not understand 
that you must not mention Donya Elisa's name to me 
any more. 

Jose. Not mention the name of Donya Elisa? Why 1 
might as easily omit the Holy Virgin from mv pravers. 
Don Pancho. That's it, The Holy Virgin ! "^ 
Padre. Sir: this is God's house. Your blasphemy 
shall cease. Not even the craze of grief shall give you 
leave to say one word against the Holy Virgin's name. 
Don Pancho. What, Pancho! Are you such a valiant 
little man? Well, well, no doubt you are right. I am 
a guest in this your house of God. And be he what he 
may, 'tis not for me to show myself so churlish and ill- 
bred. Foi-give me Don Francisco. 

Padre. (Kneeling.) Forgive me, father. lam he 
who sins. I came a youth into your household's charm, 
and you were like father unto me. You were so noble, 
generous and brave, and in those days took not the 
name of God in wicked l»lasphem3% as you take it now. 
Don Pancho. I had faith, then. Or, if not having 
faith, I still had patience with the gods of men. My 
heart ha-^ been sore tried Forgive me Pancho. 
Padre. Oh sir, though men may sin, though priests 
may walk by day with hearts as black as night with 
sin-scorelied shame, can vou not see God's wings are 



still outspread, white as the dawn, pure as the cloud- 
less sky? 

Don Pancho. I know no god beyond the make of 
priests. Let me alone now there. Come, Jose, did 
you swear? 

Jose. To give up Maria, sir? 

Don Pancho. To give up all women, Maria first of all. 
Jose. I have already sworn to give up all the others. 
That was my marriage vow. 

Don Pancho. Then come swear to give up her, as I 
now do with Donya Elisa. Come, we will swear to- 
gether. Repeat the words with me. 
Jose. I have always done as you bade me sir, but, but, 
don't you think we ought to talk this over first with 
them?' Donya Elisa and Maria might not like it. 
Don Pancho. With me now. We two, Francisco Mo- 
rales and Jose Moreno, master and serv'ant do hereby 
swear on our sacred word of honor. 
Jose. Oh, I'll swear on my word of honor to anything 
you like. 

Don Pancho. That we will henceforth have no com- 
munication with our wives Elisa and Maria, respective- 
ly. Neither will we speak their names, nor admit to 
our own thoughts that they ever had any existence for 
us. But we will - (seized with a pain of indigestion) 
But we will - Doctor, that old indigestion, again. 
Haven't you any of those tablets about you? 
Doctor. " My medicine chest was left in your house. 
It is burned with the other things. I am sorry. 
Don Pancho. Sorry! Sorry! Is that all you are? 
Do you mean to say there are no more in your office? 
Doctor. I can send a prescription to the druggist. 
Jose could wake him up. He lives near by. 
Don Pancho. Jose wake him! Wake the saints on 
Day of Judgment ! I would be dead l^efore he got his 
prescription. I want the tablets now^ - now, - now! 
Doctor. I will write at once. (Takes out book.) 
Don Pancho. No, no, I am in a hurry I tell you. 
Look here, Jose, run to Donya Elisa. Tell her to give 
vou those tablets. She always carries a bottle in her 



pocket. Tell her 1 ain suffering, suffering. .Stop a 
minute. Tell her to come along, to bring Maria. 
Those women know more in a minute, than your doc- 
tors in a day, when one's in trouble. Run, Jose; hur- 
ry. Oh -Ai Dios! Holy Mary have some pityl' 

(Enter Donya Elisa, Maria and Jose.) 
DoNYA Elisa. I was waiting outside, Good Padre. 
Lead us to the next room, Don Enrique. Give an arm 
to help Don Pancho. Maria, prepare the draught. 
Jose, hot water. You can get it of Donya Linda. She 
is up. Come Pancho, don't be a fool. 

(She leads the party out left, Don Pancho groaning 
terribly. As soon as all are gone, Don Gregorio cau- 
tiously lifts the trap, and peers out. He is emerging, 
still in his robes, when Jose, returning with hot water, 
sees him, shrieks and runs back. Don Gregorio smiles, 
steps out, replaces trap, goes up to the altar, enters the 
sacristy taking off his robes. He is returning vrhen he 
hears people coming and steps back into shadow. En- 
ter Lloyd dragging Jose. ) 

Lloyd. Come on; show me where it is. I will report 
it to the Society for Psychical Research. A church 
ghost would be a find. Now, where was it? 
JosE. Oh Holy Mother protect me! Sainted Mary 
shield me. Oh - o ! Oh - o ! 

Lloyd. I say, will you come out of that trance? 
(Shaking him) Where did you see that ghost? Where 
was it? 

Jose. (Pointing.) There. Oh Holy Virgin, have 
merc3\ 

Lloyd. Where? Here? Show me precisely the spot. 
Jose. It came up out of the floor. Oh Holy Mary. 
Lloyd. Stop that gibberish. ^^'here did it come up? 
Here? 

Jose. Oh don't take me so near. It will drag us 
down. Oh murder! Help! Murder! Fire! Help! 
Lloyd. (Seeing the trap which has not been well re- 
placed, releases Jose, Avho runs within, left. Lloyd 
examines the stoiiC, lifts on it, finallj^ shoves it aside, 
and peers down.) Another disappointment. A bona 



fide ghor^i would go through the stone. In r^tr:::e a 
light. (He presses button of a pocket electric lantern.) 
Something in a bag. Mayl^e hKines. (He leaps down, 
and immediately re-appears with a bag which he emp- 
ties on the floor. It contains church plate, tankards, 
cups, etc.) Only dishes! What curious old things! 

(Don Gregorio. meanwhile, has stealthily come for- 
ward covering Lloyd with a six shooter. ) 
Don Gregorio. So this is your business in La Guara. 
Yon are not such an innocent as you seemed. 
Lloyd. Excuse me. You do it so cleverly. Now my 
gun is still in my pocket. 

Don Gregorio. Put t!ie things back into the bag. 
Lloyd. Are they yours, that you make so free to give 
orders? 

Don Gregorio. It is the church plate, stolen, as you 
know, some months ago. Fortunately, I have chanced 
upon the robber. 

Lloyd. Oh- o - e! (Whistles.) Xoav. I put two 
and two together, I find it makes four. This is the 
plate that was stolen ten years ago by you who were 
then the priest in this church, and for which theft you 
were excommunicated. So this is the place you kept 
it in hiding. And you were the ghost Jose saw. 
Don Gregorio. What brainlessness are you going 
through now? 

Lloyd. Your friend the Doctor told me the story. 
Don Gregorio. Take up that bag and come with me. 
Lloyd. No. We'll settle this little matter here. 
Don Gregorio. You forget I have my aim straight 
at your head. 

Lloyd. No: only I remember that it would not be 
practical for you to pull the trigger. There is a crowd 
inside and more would gather outside in a minute. It 
is well-known that you stole the plate. 
Don Gregorio. I give you a minute to decide on do- 
ing as I tell you or meeting death. 
Lloyd. I prefer to employ that minute in arguing the 
case. Look here, Don (Gregorio, why can't we com- 
promise? You can keep your plate and your secret. 



I'm not one to stir up a row, but on the other hand, 
you can do something for me. It won't cost you much 
trouble and it will help me. Come; do you listen? 
Are you interested? 
Don Gregorio. What do you want? 
Lloyd. I'm stuck on that little girl, Pepita. Jiminy! 
It makes my heart jump when I think of her name. 
Now I don't like the idea of you for a father-in-law. 
Don't feel offended. I hope we shall always be friends. 
It's only that I don't want to take you into the family. 
Don Gregorio. Well. 

Lloyd. Now that's noble. You take it Hke a philos- 
opher. I admire you Don Gregorio. I do truly. 
Don Gregorio. To the point. 

Lloyd. Take back that story you told to-night, about 
your being her father. Pretend you dia it only to 
frighten the old gentleman. You will enjoy your re- 
venge all right in making him think that he has burnt 
down his house all for nothing. Yon have the kind of 
mind to appreciate that joke. 

Don Gregorio. It is impossible. The story has been 
accepted in the village here for years. 
Lloyd. But who started it? Surely not the woman, 
old Don Pancho's daughter. 
Don Gregorio. I admit I started the story. 
Lloyd. And told Donya Elisa and all. I know you 
told the Doctor and all strangers. 

Don Gregorio. Yes, I told everybody. The girl Es- 
tella has never been heard of since the affair was dis- 
covered. 

Lloyd. Good! Well, now you can publicly deny it. 
You can say you made the whole thing up to get even 
with old Don Pancho for a grudge you bore him. Now 
you are even. You can tell. 

Don Gregorio. And if I do, you'll keep quiet about 
this. 

Lloyd. Quiet! As quiet as the grave. Don't you 
see I'll have it to my interest. For although you do 
swear you are not m.y fatlier-in-law, I will still know 
you are. and feel a bit delicate on the subject. Un- 



derstaiiJ? 

Don Gregorto. Of course my swearing to the contra- 
ry does not alter the fact. 

Lloyd. In my mind it rather establishes it. It's the 
world I want to fool - and the girl. Poor little heart- 
broken-bird. She thinks she is the daughter of her 
grandpa's greatest enemy. 

Don Gregorio. I will humor you. All right. I like 
the notion. You are a bright boy and brave. I will 
not mind having you for a son-in-law, though in se- 
cret. As you say old Green Peppers will squirm when 
he learns he has burned his house for nothing. 
Lloyd. It's a bargain then! Shake! It's a bargain. 
Don Gregorio. I agree. As you say. It is a bargain. 

(Enter Pepita, Antonio and Clotilde. Pepita seeing 
Lloyd, runs up to him, seizes his hand.) 
Pepita. Oh sir, is he better? Is he better? 
Lloyd. Oh much better. Much better; quite well 
now. Indeed we may say he is quite recovered. 
Pepita. Where is he? In the sacristy? Is he sleep- 
ing? 

Lloyd. In the sacristy. Oh I guess so. He is sleep- 
ing. But you'd better stay with me; you might wake 
him. 

Clotilde. Why here's Don Gregorio Duval, and what 
are all the pretty dishes? Oh look! 
Lloyd. A bag of old junk I bought of the rag-man. 
I was showing it to Don Gregorio. He's a connoisseur. 
Clotilde. But it's silver and gold, and oh, isn't it 
pretty? 

Lloyd. You shall look at it to-morrow, Senorita. 
(Dumps things into the bag.) 

(Enter Jose left.) Jose, carry this to my lodgings. 
Don Gregorio, if you will wait there, I will follow. 

(Jose takes the bag. Don Gregorio follows him out, 
bowing to all.) 

Pepita. Why, how does Jose know Avhere your lodg- 
ings are? 

Lloyd. Everybody knows. Don Gregorio will show 
him. 



Pepita. But perhaps Papa had. sent him out for some- 
thing. 

Lloyd. Papa? 

Pepita. I have always been taught to ca]] him Papa. 
They say now he is my grand papa. 
Lloyd. Oh, Don Pancho. By the way, where is Don 
Pancho? 

Pepita. Why j^ou said yourseh' he was in the sacris- 
ty- 

Lloyd. Oh, he is the one who is in the sacristy! 1 
knew it was some1)ody, anj^way. 

Pepita. But, you said hev;as better, - had recovered. 
Lloyd. Why so he is; so he has; at least, he vrill be 
when he sees you. 
Pepita. Oh Mr. - 

Lloyd. My name is Lloyd. You can call me George. 
Pepita. Don Jorge is a very pretty name. 
Lloyd. It is pretty in j'our lingo, now, isn't it? 
Pepita. It is very wrong of me to speak with you 
here. Antonio and Clotilde seem to have left us. 
Lloyd. Oh they are finding something interesting to 
talk about. 

Pepita. I am glad Antonio likes Clotilde best. 
Lloyd. Aren't j^ou jealous when he's engaged to you? 
Pepita. Oh, he can never marry me now. 
Lloyd. He can't? Jiminy! But that's news. 
Pepita. He can bring only an honorable name into 
his family. 

Lloyd. (Confused) Bat if he should find out, that 
after all, - ah, ahem, that - that Don Gregorio was not 
after all your father. 

Pepita. Isn't he? Was it a lie? I knew it. Oh, but 
Mamma couldn't have been mistaken. 
Lloyd. I suppose Mr. Antonio will be wanting you 
back if he finds out. If he finds out. 
Pepita. Oh, I am so unhappy. So unhappy. 
Lloyd. Noay don't be. I mean let me comfort you. 
There cry. Now^ Jiminy! Crying is nicer than laugh- 
ing, sometimes, isn't it? There, there! Here's my 
handkerchief; vours is all black. There now, my lit- 



tie jinksy, winksy, minx3^ 

Pepita. I haven't any father. I haven't any father! 

Lloyd. Be thankful and glad for it I tell j^ou. It's a 

blessing that is accorded to but few. My governor has 

given me lots of trouble. And I've been patient with 

him, and forbearing, I have really. 

Pepita. Nobody will ever marry me. Never! 

Lloyd. Won't they? Take me. Oh Jiminy! I say, 

will you marry me? Will you? 

Pepita. I can't. I have no Papa to give me away. 

Oh, we'll get the Doctor, Don Enrique. 

No, it must be a real Papa. 

I'll tell you. I'll steal you. We'll elope. 

You are a Protestant . I must marry only a 



Lloyd. 

Pepita . 

Lloyd. 

Pepita. 

Catholic. 

Lloyd. 

Where's 



I'll change, 
the priest? 



I'll declare my intentions now. 
Do you think he carries papers 



about with him? 
Pepita. Oh dear 



I must ask Mamma about it. 
Mamma? 
Donya Elisa says she will always be my Mam- 



Lloyd. 

Pepita. 

ma. 

Lloyd. But if she says yes, will you? Will you? 

Will j'ou? 

Pepita. I shall do as she tells me. I always do. 

I can fix her. I can fix her. Oh Jiminy! 

Who is Jiminy? You are always speaking of 



Lloyd. 

Pepita. 

her. 

Lloyd. 

knows? 

Pepita. 

Lloyd. 

Pepia. 

name? 

Lloyd. 

Pepita. 

Lloyd. 



Why, maybe it's my sweetheart. Who 

Oh, so you have a sweetheart, already? 

A fresh one; just out. Yes, yes! 

I thought, - I understood, - What is her 

Her name? Why Pepita. Tag! You're it! 
But you said her name was Jiminy. 
I was joking; it isn't. It's Pepita. That's 



a word I say when I'm sort of hugging myself. 

Pepita. Why do you hug yourself? 

Lloyd. Why, of course. Why do I? T won't. I'll 



hug you. Oh, Jiniiiiyl 

Pepita. It's a nice word, Jiminy, isn't it? You'll 
say it now when you - - Oh I never talked to a man 
this way before. Take me to Donya Elisa, take me, 
take me. (She runs back toward the left, but at the 
sacristy door encounters Donya Elisa coming out). 
Donya Elisa. Why, Pepita, child, what are you do- 
ing here, waiting at his door? Oh, he won't see you, 
my poor little orphan, my baby. And there's Antonio 
and Clotilde and - (Seemg Lloyd) I beg your pardon. 
Lloyd. Can I be of anj^ service to you, madam? 
Donya Elisa. Oh, I remember, you are the friend of 
Don Gregorio. 

Lloyd. I trust that v»'i]l not prevent me from being 
your friend. I come with very important nev.s from. 
Don Gregorio. 

Donya Elisa. Yes, excuse me. I was looking for Jo- 
se. It is twice now I have sent him for hot water. 
Antonio, you go and see what is the matter with him, 
will you? I sent him to Donya Linda. Wait, you do 
not know the way. Pepita, child, you and Clotilde 
go with him. And perb.a})s Donj^a Linda will accom- 
pany you back. Under no other circumstances, would 
I let you go unattended. But Antonio is a good boy, 
and alas, who can keep up appearances on such a night 
as this? (Exit Antonio, Clotilde, Pepita. ) Now sir, 
you have a message from Don Gregorio. Alas the day 
that I ever listened to his messages! 
Lloyd. He desires me to tell you that all he said in 
your house this evening about, - your grand-daughter 
was false. That he has no claim whatever upon Pepita. 
That he connected his name long ago with tlie stories of 
3^our daughter, because he wished to annoy Don Pan- 
cho, your husband, against whom he had some slight 
grievance or other. That, afterAvard, upon your adop- 
tion of Pepita, he kept up the pretence, because it gave 
him power over you, as well as over Don Pancho. 
Donya Elisa. Maria, Holy mother, take my thanks. 
(Kneels and begins sobbing and praying). 
Lloyd. (Aside) It ^Yas the bip-gest lie f ever attempt- 



ed, but it's worth the effort, and Jiminy, 1 like it. 
Henceforward I shall never tell the truth. It's time to 
swear off anyway if I'm going to be married. 
DoNYA Elisa. Is it true? Is it true what you are 
telling me? 

Lloyd. I swear to it madam. I take my oath. Have 
you got a Bible handy? I'll bring Don Gregorio here 
nwself, now if you like, in this church, and he'll 
swear before the priest and the doctor. 
DoNYA Elisa. But why does he tell now, as he never 
saw fit to do so before? 

Lloyd. Don't you see? He considers he's had his re- 
venge. Don Pancho's house is burned, he is reduced 
now to penury. 

DoNYA Elisa. It is true we are beggars: we are beg- 
gars. 

Lloyd. Dear madam, will you listen to me a mo- 
ment: I am, - I mean, - I have, - ahem, a little mon- 
ey. I mean a few hundred thousands. 
DoNYA Elisa. We could never accept charity from a 
stranger. 

Lloyd. That's it. I don't want to be a stranger. 
I love your grand-daughter, Pepita. I Avish to marry 
her. I am inclined to tliink she maj^ return my affec- 
tion. 

DoNYA Elisa. Do you mean to say you have spoken 
to her, already? 

You have seen her alone - you have taken advantage of 
this calamity? 

Lloyd. It was in a church, madam. Antonio and 
Clotilde were making love, too. 

DoNYA Elisa. Oh, my orphan, my lamb, my inno- 
cent little baby. She is ruined. She is disgraced and 
lost forever. 

Lloyd. Why I didn't even so much as kiss her. I 
never touched her. I addressed her quite formally, I 
assure you. Indeed, she received me in the same 
haughty manner and was going to find you, when you 
met her at the door way. (Aside) Jiminy, but it's 
fine to lie. I feel famous. 



DoNYA Elisa. But you saw her alone - j'ou spoke to 
her. She is lost. She is disgraced in the eyes of the 
world now forever. 

Lloyd. But if you let me marry her, madam, as my 
wife - 

DoNYA Elisa. That cannot be. You are a Protestant, 
in the fir^t place. 

Lloyd. I can change mj^ religion, easily, ma'am. I 
never had much. 

DoNYA Elisa. It would be something to gain a con- 
vert to the True Church, but no, it cannot be. It can 
not be. She has no parents. 

Lloyd. A recommendation for any bride I assure 
you. 

DoNYA Elisa. No; she must go into a convent. I am 
decided. But I thank you Don - 
Lloyd. George. 

DoNYA Elisa. Don Jorge, I trust you. 
Lloyd. I say, you won't let that little Antonio have 
her, will you? 

DoNYA Elisa. Don Antonio is of worthy birth and 
station. 

Lloyd. You mean that he can never marry Pepita? 
DoNYA Elisa. Not that, now her parentage is known. 
Lloyd. Well I give you notice, I do not intend to 
give her up. I shall speak to Don Pancho about the 
matter. 

DoNYA Elisa. Don Pancho will not so much as hear 
her name spoken. He has cast her off, as he cast off 
her mother. I am an unhappy woman, Don Jorge. 
Ai me, that a stranger should see my tears. 
Lloyd. I am not a stranger, and I mean to be your 
son. 

DoNyA Elisa. Pepita must go into a convent. 
LLoyD. But tell me, if I can bring Don Pancho 
around to taking her back, to accepting her once more 
as his daughter, why then, will you consent to let me 
have her? Will you use your influence with Don Pan- 
cho in my favor? 
DoNVA Elisa. You speak of the impossible. It can 



not be. You do not know the iron pride of Don Pan- 
cho. 

Lloyd. But you'll be on my side? Won't you - Mam- 
ma? 

DoNYA Elisa. You are a good boy. But ours is a 
ruined family. 

Lloyd. In our country we like ruins. They are so 
picturesque. 

Donya Elisa. I could never let my darling go so far. 
Lloyd. But I mean to settle here in New Mexico. I 
shall start a big ranch and buy cattle. Y^ou and Don 
Pancho will come with us to live. Eh? 
Donya Elisa. Y^ou are a boy. Y^ou do not under- 
stand a man. Y^ou are an American. You do not un- 
derstand the Spaniard. 
Lloyd. I understand love. 
Donya. Elisa. Ah, love. 
Lloyd. Love rules the world. 

Donya Elisa. Love crushes the world. It breaks its 
heart. It kills it. (Weeping.) 

(Enter Don Pancho). 
Don Pancho. Elisa. (Seeing LWd) Sir, I have had 
the honor before this evening. You come perhaps to 
see the old mission church. It contains some rare old 
books and a few pictures. The plate is now all gone. 
Was stolen some years ago. 

Lloyd. I come to bear a message from Don Gregorio. 
Don Pancho. I receive no messages from the gentle- 
man you mention. 

Lloyd. To say that the statement made in your house 
this evening was false. He has no claims upon the 
child, Pepita. 

Don Pancho. I have no knowledge of any child you 
speak of. I have the privilege of bidding you good 
evening. 

Lloyd. Whether you speak of her or not, I will speak 
of her. I mean to marry your grand-daughter. So 
there. I love her; there! And she loves me - there! 
And I think you are an old pride fool. There! There! 

(Enter Doctor and Padre at the noise. Don Pancho 



is breathless with astoiiishineiit). 

Doctor. Why Mr. Lloj^d, yott are here! It is a night 
of surprises. Don Pancho, as my patient, I command 
you to go back to bed. Donya EHsa, you are usually 
my best^ of nurses.^ But to-night 1 must reprimand 
you. You are negligent. 

Donya Elisa. We were speaking of Pepita - - 
Don Pancho. Elisa, we were speaking of no such per- 
son. There is no such person to your knowledge. 
There never has l)een, there never will be, do you hear? 
Don Enrique vre were speaking of the donkej^^s, of the 
sparrows that display their lusts from every house-top. 
Souls of the damned in inferno, shrieking with the 
laughter of maniacs. Every man was brought there 
by a woman. Every woman came from there to earth. 
By the cross, Pancho, j-ou are mixed in your religion. 
Women are not made of stuff from Heaven. They are 
fashioned of the dust and dirt of Hell. Oh, Satan, 
how clever is thy handiwork. Thou makest up so trim 
and neat a parcel that we call it names like innocence 
of girlhood. We know we lie, vre love our self-fooling. 
We say how pure she is, the spotless virgin. By God, 
I tell you Doctor, if we but knew it, a young girl's 
mind is, of all things the most rotten. Faugh! I can 
not speak the words because a woman - (Pointing to 
his wife) Oh we are cowards, hypocrites, all liars! 
Doctor. Perhaps now you are warmed up to the sub- 
ject, you will be able to do justice to us men. 
Lloyd. I call such jargon simply craziness. And I for 
one, will not let it pass unchallenged. You are an old 
blackguard, sir, and spit because 3^ou're in a passion. 
But your poison vomit shall not sully us. You're a 
pampered old bool)y, that's what you are. If it hadn't 
been that you had always had such sweet and saintly 
Avomen a? your servants, you would not now be raving 
as 3"0u are. You treat them like slaves, sir, - like 
slaves. Your wife and j^our grand-daughter, - I have 
seen it. I have not the honor of having known your 
mother, no more your daughter whom you have ruined, 
but if they are anything like Donya Elisn and Pepita, 



1 know they are the sweetest, kindest women that ever 
breathed. Oh, you stand there and foam out about 
the women, but if any of them has gone wrong, sir, de- 
pend on it, it has been through a man's selfishness, a 
man's viciousness. Jiminy! When I think of it, I 
get so excited, I could just whirl round and round till I 
nm dizzy. 

Don Pancho. Don Enrique, good physician, is it not 
in your power to administer to this babe a dose of 
soothing syrup? He seems to be somewhat troubled in 
his sleep. 

Doctor. I seem to have several patients on my hands 
this evening, and Donya Elisa is almost fainting from 
fatigue. First you, Don Pancho, must come back to 
your bed, and Don Francisco will no doubt counsel 
with my countryman. We too, have our little warmth 
as well as the Spaniards and the women are a delicate 
point with us. 

Lloyd. (Stubbornly) I don't care if I am a fool and 
told so, but before Don Pancho goes back to his bed, 
I should like to have this little matter finished. To 
you, Doctor, I can speak without so much excitement. 
1 come from Don Gregorio Duval to say from him to 
Don Pancho, Donya Elisa, and you all, that what he 
said this evening when you were at the table was false, 
and said entirely for spite. That he has never had any- 
- - that he has no claims whatever on Pepita and 
knows absolutely nothing of her parentage. 
Padre. What! Does he confess so much? 
Doctor. But my dear fellow this is a fairy tale 3-0U 
are telling us, and you, yourself, would see the absurd- 
ity of it were you not such a newcomer in La Guara. 
The facts of Don Gregorio 's relations in this matter 
have been known by everybody in the village for the 
past fourteen years. Why Don Gregorio himself has 
often told me - 

Don Pancho. (Raging) Dupe! Fool! Blockhead! 
Tool of women! Thy name is Pancho Morales, thy 
name is man. Oh, how could I have been such an idi- 
ot? Such a blind old cow to eat anything they fed 



me. Even the sen/ants and the children of the streets 
have querked their fingers as I strutted like a turkey 
cock before them. 

DoNYA Elisa. Pancho, will j^ou listen to the Doctor? 
It may he the American youth is right. 
Padre. I am sure there is some truth in this confes- 
sion of Don Gregorio. 

Doctor. Impossible! How can there be, 1 tell you? 
Everyone in the village knows the case. 
Lloyd. Did not everyone in the village get his infor- 
mation primarilj^ from Don Gregorio? 
DoNYA Elisa. Yes, yes, everybody; everybody. 
Lloyd. Well, he lied. He lied from the first. He 
saw his chance and wanted vengeance. 
Doctor. Then why does he tell now? 
Lloyd. His vengeance is the better brought about 
when he can show Don Pancho that he has burned his 
his house for nothing. He has completed his ruin 
thiough a device. The facts were not the cause, 
but Don Gregorio. 

DoNYA Elisa. It is true that the story came frotn 
him. No word was ever spoken by my daughter. 
Don Pancho. Woman, you have no daughter. You 
never will have. It is my will. Do you hear? It is 
my will. As for this pettifogging tale of this young 
upstart, I do not believe it. It is merely of his mad- 
ness. 

Lloyd. I can go and get Don Gregorio to vouch for 
it. He is waiting even now at my lodgings. 
Doctor. It might help to clear up the case if you did 
so. It might be then that Ave could get a little rest. 
Padre. Let us have him and hear the truth. It is 
our duty. 

Lloyd. You wait... I wall have him in ten min- 
utes. (Exit) . 

Don Pancho. What folderol are we up to? Tell me 
anyway. Do we wait here because that hair-brained 
boy demands it? (Enter Pepita, Clotilde and Anto- 
nio with a jar of hot water.) Pepita! . Ah! (Ig- 
noring her, and turning on the Padre.) Don Francis- 



CO, have you turned your church into a dance hall? 
All the riff-raff of the tovrn is coming here. (Turning 
again, looking over Pepita's head. ) Ah, Clotilde, and 
what! Antonio with you? Well, vrell, boy, what sig- 
nificance has this? You take advantage of the occupa- 
tion of the duenya. You are a sly little dog, I 
fear, Antonio. But Clotilde is a dear girl, and of good 
family. We shall yet hear wedding bells from this 
wild night. 

Clotilde. We brought hot water for your pains, God- 
father, from Donya Linda, and she herself accompa- 
nied us to the door. She would not come in, because 
she had no mantilla, and she said to enter the church 
without one would show disrepect. 
Don Pancho. You are a dear little God-daughter. 
Come, let me kiss you. I - I - have only you now. 
My child, my little child. 
Clotilde. You have Pepita, too - 
Don Pancho. Pepita! Everyone screams to me Pe- 
pita. The very rats and mice, I think, are called Pe- 
pita, so often do I hear that name pronounced. Child, 
speak to me no more the name of Pepita. I know no 
such person nor care to know her. If there is that 
about me that is indecent, that shames me, I throw^ it 
aside, and walk straight on my way. Yea, though it 
be the fleece that lines my heart. I tear it out and 
cast it in the ashes. 

Padre. You are strong and can do these things, but 
what of the soft hearts of women? 

Don Pancho. Let women walk in the ways of right- 
eousness and they will not find themselves without 
support. 

Padre. There are some that have never deviated from 
that path, but suffering through the sins of luckless 
parents are set by you with those who vilely got them. 
Don Pancho. The sins of the father shall be visited 
even on the third and fourth generation. 
Doctor. In that way of condemning, who of us shall 
go free? 
Don Pancho. What you, too, Don Enrique, turn 



against me and counsel shame upon me! Would you 
too, have me sit in the open sunlight and brazenly par- 
ade my running sores out in the plaza? Oh, fie upon 
you all! Have you no dignity? No sense of modesty 
among 3^ou? I say this thing is obscene. It is obscene. 
(Pacing back in his excitement, he crosses by Pepita, 
who clings to his feet, kissing them). 
Pepita. Papa! 

Don Pancho. Faugh, the foulness clings to my boots. 
(Shakes her off.) Elisa. Elisa. Bring me other 
boots, my shoes, my slippers. Take these off. Cast 
them into the streets. They are unclean. Their 
stench is unendurable. 

DoNYA Elisa. Pancho! (Kneels at hi& feet). 
Don Pancho. The boots! Off with them! Hurry! 
(Donj^a Elisa takes off his shoes.) There, that is bet- 
ter, though I walk bare-footed on the pointed stones 
and cactus of the desert. I will walk unsullied, uncon- 
taminated. 

(Donya Elisa then takes Pepita away, beckoning to 
Clotilde to follow. She starts). 

Don Pancho. Clotilde. Come here, child. I wish to 
speak to you, and Antonio. I wish you both together. 
So it is to be a marriage, is it? I see it in your eyes. 
Ah, to be j^oung again! To be innocent. (He dis- 
misses them, but they linger till he can speak and has 
overcome his emotion.) There, Antonio, take her 
to Donya Linda or some protectress. Donya Ehsa is 
occupied already. You must keep your little treasure 
unsullied - unsullied. Don't go to Donya Elisa or 
those near her. (They go out.) The ways of honor 
and pride, may still lead forward. (He breaks down 
with grief, but recovers himself at once on the en- 
trance of Lloyd and Don Gregorio. Donya Elisa also 
comes in after them. Don Pancho turns to the Pa- 
dre.) Don Francisco, I congratulate you on the suc- 
cess of your reception. All of the inhabitants of La 
Guara will soon be present. 

Lloyd. Here he is; now we'll have this matter set- 
tled. 



Don Gregorio. (Bowing to all affably.) Good Even- 
ing. Ah, Do3tor... Don Francisco... This young 
friend of mine insisted on dragging m3 here. I had no 
idea I should find myself in such pleasant company. 
Lloyd. Insist! Dragging! Did you not come of 
vour own accord? 

Don Gregorio. Why, I did not wish to have it un- 
derstood that I came with j^our hand on my collar. I 
walked with you, at your desire, I am sure. 
Lloyd. To corroborate the statements that I have al- 
ready made about your relations with, - with regard 
to Pepita. 

Don Gregorio. Why, of that I had no inkling until 
now. You take me by surprise; you young Americans. 
Lloyd. Do you not come here to say that the state- 
ment made by you in the house of Don Pancho this 
evening was absolutely and utterly false? 
Don Gregorio. Most assuredly, I come for nothing of 
the kind. 

Lloyd. What, after you promised me! Here! 
Don Gregorio. My dear young friend, you speak in 
enigmas. Don Enrique, is this common among the 
youth of your countrymen? 

Lloyd. You told me you would swear before Don 
Pancho that you never had any intimacy with his 
daughter. 

Don Gregorio. No, 1 did not. 

Lloyd. There, by that stone which covers a passage 
that leads down into the crypt, 
Don Gregorio. No. 

Lloyd. Where this night you removed some of the 
church plate which you stole from the church some 
ten years ago. 

Don Gregorio. I know nothing of what you are 
speaking. 

Lloyd. (To the Doctor and others) He lies! He 
lies! I will prove it. I will show you. 

(Don Gregorio makes motion to draw his revolver, 
but the Padre steps in front of him.) 
Padre. This is the house of God. 



Lloyd. (Runs over, lifts the trap and leaps down 
with the lighted lantern.) 1 will show you whence he 
has stolen ihe treasure. Perhaps I can find his tracks, 
or perhaps there is still some of his plunder left. (Dis- 
appears.) 

Don Gregorio. Damn him! (He runs after and al- 
so leaps down into the hole. Jose enters). 
Don Pancho. Jose. Replace that stone in the floor. 
Gently... That will do, don't pinch your fingers. 

(Jose does as he is bid. Don Pancho steps on the 
stone.) There now, perhaps we can have a little quiet. 
For myself, 1 find I am growing very sleep3^ Jose, 
push my bed out here. The air is better. With your 
permission, Don Francisco, I will sleep here instead of 
in the sacristy. I find it not so stuffy nor so damp. 

(Jose appears pushing a heavy couch before him.) 
Right here, boy; the head on this stone. That will 
hold it down and keep it from rattling. Now, gentle- 
men, I am very comfortable, thank you. Don Francis- 
co, 1 can never thank you for your gracious hospitality 
of this evening. Doctor, until to-morrow. Good night. 
(He lies down on the couch. They go off.) 

(Curtain) 



ACT II 



Scene: Hospital of the Sacred Heart, La Guara. 
Sisters move in the back-ground. In front are three 
beds occupied by Don Pancho, Don Gregorio and 
Lloyd. Don Pancho is in the middle bed, flanked on 
either side by his enemies. Lloyd and Don Gregorio 
are much bandaged from their fight, broken legs, arms, 
heads, etc. They speak to each other, but Don Pan- 
cho ignores both. 



Lloyd. What a long day! It seems as if it will never 

end. 

Don Gregorio, Each day is longer than all the others 

put together. 

Lloyd. This makes seven days noAV that we have been 

here. 

Don Gregorio. And this day is only five-eighths 

done. It is half past three. 

Lloyd. At three o'clock it was three-fifths done. 

Don Gregorio. Three-fifths! I don't see how j^ou 

make that out. 

Lloyd. Why I reckon the day begins at six and ends 

at nine. That's when the lights go out. 

Don Gregorio. Those hours when the lights are out 

are twice as long as the others. The only rational way 

of reckoning a day is from midnight to midnight like 

the rail-roads. 

Lloyd. Oh, I sleep through the night like a top. 

Sometimes I sleep in the day. Just now I have had a 

long doze. When I last looked at the clock - 

(Don Pancho, w^ho?e temper has been rising, pounds 
violent.lv on the floor with his stick until a sister 



comes. ) 

Sister Elena. Is there anything I can do for you, 
Don Pancho? 

Don Pancho. Has Sister Teresa not come up from the 
office? 

Sister Elena. Not yet, Don Pancho. 
Don Pancho. She is much occupied, I suppose. 
Sister Elena. I suppose it, Don Pancho. 
Don Pancho. She promised to reconsider my desire to 
be removed to another room. 

Sister Elena. Yes, Don Pancho, I have been told 
that she is doing so. 

Don Pancho. Will you go and see if she has entered 
the ward? (Sister Elena is going.) Stop! I would 
speak to you a moment. 
Sister Elena. Yes, Don Pancho. 
Don Pancho. The day seems uncommonly short in 
passing. 

Sister Elena. I am glad you are so comfortable, Don 
Pancho. 

Don Pancho. It seems but yesterday since I came 
here. Or would seem so if I were in another room. 
Sister Elena. Yes, Don Pancho. 
Don Pancho. It is twenty-five minutes to four. It is 
not half past three. 

Sister Elena. You can see the clock on the wall. 
Don Pancho. And the day is three-quarters gone. 
Every day begins at six, the way nature intended it 
to do. And they are not subject to change and re- 
arrangement by every petty whim and wish of man. 
Sister Elena. No doubt you are correct, Don Pan- 
cho. 

Don Pancho. Of course I am correct, because I am 
rational. x\nd the rail-roads are wrong; they are al- 
ways wrong. Like everything else of our damned Yan- 
kee civilization. 

Sister Elena. I will go ap.d see if Sister Teresa is re- 
turned. (Starts.) 

Lloyd. Will you give me a glass of water, Sister Ele- 
na. (She gives him a drink.) The water tastes so 



cooi t'roiii your hand. 

Sister Elena. Thank you, Don Jorge. You are 
very kind. 

Don Pancho. Sister Elena, the water here tastes par- 
ticularly warm and insipid. I wonder that thej- can 
offer it to a pig. 

Don Gregorio. I will take a drink, too, Sister Elena. 
(Drinks.) The water is warm and insipid. 
Don Pancho. Give me a drink, Sister Elena, (drinks) 
The water is not warm nor insipid. Neither is it cool 
and fresh. It is, By God, it is boiling. It is boiling. 
Do 3'OU hear me? What damned, stupid idiot would 
ever ask for a drink of water. 
Sister Elena. I will go and call Sister Teresa. 
Don Pancho. Do so, and get me out of this Hell hole. 
I am worn out with staying in one place, and my case 
requires company. Companionship. I need someone 
to speak with I tell you. No matter if it is the lowest 
peon or an Indian. I can't endure the empty beds. 
The empty beds! It seems as if the days would never 
end. By God, I mean the time flies. It courses. 
Only I want companionship, conversation. If it is no 
more than the grunting of a hog or the whine of a cat. 
Somebody! Somebody! Somebody! (Sister Elena 
returns with Sister Teresa.) Well! Well! Here j'ou 
are again. Sister Teresa. And now am I to be changed 
to another room? 

Sister Teresa. It is impossible, Don Pancho. I have 
looked over all the records of the hospital. Such an in- 
stance is not mentioned in all our historv going back to 
1623. 

Don Pancho. Do you mean to say it is specially for- 
bidden? 

Sister Teresa. Even so. In the instructions given 
by the sainted Padre, Don Francisco de Vaca de Al\r.- 
rez, in the document sent from Madrid, for the especial 
government and control of this hospital, it is stated as 
I have mentioned to you before, in Article nine, Clause 
thirty-two, that no patient - 
Don Pancho. Yes, yes, yes. I have heard that before. 



Bat 1 am tired of this place, 1 tell you. 1 ought not 
to have been put here in the first place. 
Sister Teresa. It is especially stated in the Instruc- 
tions, Article eight, Clause fifty-four, that each patient 
shall he assigned to a bed according to the time of his 
arrival. Now in your case, you were brought to us af- 
ter Don Jorge Lloyd, and before Don Gregorio Duval. 
A})out tbis, I knew that there could l^e no mistake. 
But the one point on which the doubt could be raised 
was tliat you really came to the hospital after both Don 
Jorge and Don Gregorio, but Don Gregorio being de- 
layed in the operating room, his case being a difficult 
one, requiring amputation, your honored arrival into 
this ward was between that of Don Jorge and Don 
Gregorio. I have examined the records to see if an ex- 
ception has ever been made in the case of one coming to 
the hospital from the outside, and not passing througli 
the operating room as did Don Jorge and Don Gre- 
gorio. But - 

Don Pancho. It is your decision that I must remain 
where I am. 

Sister Teresa. It would he dangerous to establish a 
precedent. But I will write to the Archbishop of the 
Diocese. If it were not that he is now^ in the city of 
Mexico, or may even have departed for the mother 
country - 

Don Pancho. Write to him. Write to him if he is in 
Hahfax. 

Sister Teresa. Yes, Don Pancho; I hope Sister El- 
ena does everything within her power for your com- 
fort. (A bell rings.) It is the hour for the admission 
of visitors. Perhaps it is Donya Elisa to see 3^ou. 
(Retires. Sister Elena also withdraws.) 
Lloyd. I'll bet it's my mother! I'll I.et it's her ring! 
I'd know it among a million by Jiminy! 

(Enter Mrs. Lloyd with Sister Elena. She is an 
ordinary American matron of well-to-do life. She is 
nervous and on the point of crying. ) 
Mrs. Lloyd. Is he in this room? My Georgy? 
I^LO YD . Mu m m V ! It's ]\Ium n i v ! Bv Ji m i n v . 



Mrs. Lloyd. Georgie! (Runs up and in her excite- 
ment is about to embrace Don Gregorio.) Oh ! 
Lloyd. Here, Mummy, here. 

Mrs. Lloyd. (Runs up to Don Pancho's bed.) Oh! 
Lloyd. You're warmer. Mummy! You're getting 
hot. (She reaches his bed.) Oli Mummy! (They 
kiss and embrace with great enthusiasm.) 
Mrs. Lloyd. You are not dead, dear boy? You are 
not d3'ing? Oh, I have been in sucli agony since your 
telegram . 

Lloyd. Why, 1 said slightly injured. 
Mrs. Lloyd. I know. I know. But 1 felt it was 
more than slightly. I felt it. 

Lloyd. Only a leg l)roken and a few bumps. It's 
nothing. We have a very good doctor here. A New 
Yorker. You must see him; he is a very fine fellow. 
Mrs. Lloyd. And your leg is broken? Oh, will you 
be lame? 

Lloyd. Not at all; I shall dance at my wedding. 
Mrs. Lloyd. And you fell, you say, through the floor 
of a church. 

Lloyd. A stone misplaced. They had forgot to put it 
down. 

Mrs. Lloyd. My dear boy. My darling, my baby. 
You might have been killed. It was miraculous. You 
must promise me never to go into one of these churches 
again. 

Lloyd. That's easy. Were yon comfy on the train? 
Mrs. Lloyd. Oh, very, and I met such nice people, 
and they were all of them so interested in you. 
Lloyd. Oh, 'twas you they were interested in, old 
Mummy. Did j^ou come from the station directly here? 
Mrs. Lloyd. Of course and I shall remain here till 
you are well. Now, I'll lay off my wraps and take 
care of you ; and you shall keep still and not excite 
yourself. Here are your medicines on the table. I 
trust they are homeopathic. No, this looks suspicious. 
I must speak to the Doctor about it. I will explain 
your delicate constitution. 
Lloyd. Old Mummy. Don't think about medicines. 



1 want to talk to you; 1 want to marry. 
Mrs. Lloyd. Marry! Why, you're but a baby. Oh, 
dear, he's getting delirious. It's the excitement. Oh, 
it was Avrong for me to come this way unannounced. 
It was wicked. Oh. Georgie, don't you know me, 
your poor old Mummy. 

Lloyd. Of course I know you. There! There! I'm 
not delirious. You're the dearest old Mummy. There, 
there ! 

Mrs. Lloyd. But you were delirious a moment ago. 
You actually spoke about marrying. 
Lloyd. Well Mummy, don't you believe a man 
should marry? 

Mrs. Lloyd. A man! You are a mere boy. A baby. 
Lloyd. I'm twenty-four. I've been five times en- 
gaged. You ought to be getting used to it by this 
time. 

Mrs. Lloyd. Why, so I am. It's all right, I am sure. 
Only before, you always spoke of them as engagements 
and this time you said marry. I was startled. 
Lloyd. That's it... That's just the difference with 
this one. And oh, Mummy, she's the sweetest little 
thing. You will love her like a daughter, I know it. 
Mrs. Lloyd. I'm sure I tried to love the other four. 
Lloyd. Oh, but this one, mother. She's an angel. 
She's Spanish. Her name's Pepita. Isn't that a pret- 
ty name? 

Mrs. Lloyd. Pepita... Let's see... The others were 
Margaret, and Betty, and Jessica, - 
Lloyd. But, oh Mummy, this one is so different. 
And she's young and of very good famil3^ Her grand- 
father is of pure old Castilian stock. He is reallj^ quite 
a prince in this neighborhood. And the grandmother 
is such a lady. Donya Elisa... Oh, there's nothing 
in Jersey like these old Spanish families. 
Mrs. Lloyd. Are they very wealthy? You speak of 
their station. 

Lloyd. They have been, - very... They owned the 
whole country before the Mexican war. But you know 
^lother, after that, the Yankees stole everything, al- 



5tw -^^'-isryih iiT^ tjimss s j^bip jShub gfefgT\, A we^ 

Z HlW !*IIIIl£ JHE? 




LaSVSL l^feggf- ^EB^.— X<iaL«!SraB^bHW lil^ 







Mr5. Lloyd. \Miy, Til do what you want, ahvays, 
Georgie. 

Lloyd. There, there! I knew you would. I knew it. 
I'll send for the little thing, presently. You'll see 
what an angel she is. A little, shy wood-dove of a 
wifey. 

Mrs. Lloyd. Now you must not talk. I insist on it. 
I brought you kindest love from your father, and love 
from your sisters and cousins. Now, don't talk. No, 
Hush: I won't listen. No more... I will close up my 
ears. (She sits down and takes out her work after 
making herself comfortable and tidy. Enter Donya 
Elisa. DonPancho, through this interview, has proud- 
ly been trying not to listen, but of course has overheaid 
every word ) . 

DoxYA Elisa. Good afternoon, Pancho. Did you rest 
well during your siesta? 

Don Pancho. (Starts to curse, l>ut remembeis Mrs. 
Lloyd who is sitting on the other side of his bed. - She 
is between the beds of her son and Don Pancho. - He 
can only reply with a shade of sarcasm.) Most excel- 
lently, Elisa. The time passed very quickh^ 
Donya Elisa. I tried to get the eau de Cologne, lait 
they were out of it at the drug-.store. Wasn't that 
careless? They had sent to Santa Fe; of course they 
said so, but it may be a week before they hear from 
there. Alfonso knows I always use it, too, and at this 
time especially, in case of sickness. I must trj- and 
borrow of someone in the village. Donya Linda has 
not a drop nor Donya Julia. 

Mrs. Lloyd. (To Donya Elisa.) I beg pnrdrn, I 
hope you will not consider it an intrus'on, l-ut I 
couldn't help overhearing what you said. Now ] Lave 
of eau de Cologne a large lottle. My son is so fond of 
it, and it is so useful in hospitals. (Taking a bottle 
from her bag.) I hr pe you will permit me to share 
this with you. I shall really be unhappy if you dcn't. 
Donya Elisa. I am deeply indebted, madam, for 
your kindnesb, but - 
Mrs. Lloyd. No, no, I will hear of no excu.ses. We 



must help each other, we women who have troubles. 
Has your husband been long in the hospital? I am 
here to take care of my son. 

DoNYA Elisa. My husband has been here six days. 
Mrs. Lloyd. Oh, then they must have been acquaint- 
ed already. In sickness, we must break down all bar- 
riers and be brothers and sisters. Do you not think 
so? Our sorrow is a common tie to unite us. 
DoNYA EusA. You are very kind, madam. I assure 
you. 

Mrs. Lloyi>. There I see you do not like my inter- 
ruption. But you must accept of the Cologne. It is 
no matter. I will speak to this gentlemen over here. 
(To Don Gregorio.) You. sir, do not have any wom- 
an to attend you. 

Don Gregorio. Madam, I am not so fortunate as 
many. 

Mrs. Lloyd. Well, I shall come to see you every day 
and give you precisely the same attention as my son. 
I am sure you know him now and therefore love him. 
Are you very ill? Have you been in the hospital long? 
Don Gregorio. Six days, madam. 
Mrs. Lloyd. Why, you both came on the same day 
as Georgie. Are you injured? (Glances at the bed.) 
Oh, dear, it is so terrible. 

Don Gregorio. An accident... I fell through a hole 
in the church floor. My leg was broken. Amputation 
was thought necessary. 

Mrs. Li o YD. Oh, how terrible! I see: - off at the 
thigh. Oh you dear man. You must let me come to 
see you. Why, my Georgie fell through a hole in the 
church floor, too. Why, it must be as full of holes as 
a colander. He broke his leg, too, but it was not am- 
putated. Oh, dear, the similarity of the two cases shall 
make me think of you both as my own children. Oh, 
these church floors are terrible, - simply terrible. I 
shall .-ee the town authorities about it. 

(Enter Sister Dolores, a nxm about thirty years old, 
blooming, calm, self-contained. She goes up to Lloyd's 
bed and gives him a letter. She keeps her back turned 



toward Don Pancho. Lloyd,. ^Yho has been feigning 
^leep to please his mother, sits np and begins to read 
eagerly, after kissing the letter passionately several 
times. Mrs. Lloj'd, ever watehful, becomes jealous. 
Don Pancho tries not to listen to the following ccnver- 
saticn, but cannot restrain his intere^t. Donya Elisa 
is unaffected]}^ moved.) 

D)nGre33RI0. (Unnoticed by Mrs. Lloyd.) I fear, 
Madam, you will find the town authorities to be of a 
very diiferent type to those found in j^our most excel- 
lent American cities. We lack here what you so gen- 
erously offer to supply, nameh^, the interest and en- 
thusiasm of a public-spirited woman. A lady like 
yourself with your energy and your beauty and accom- 
plishment, can effect wonders, as I have no dottl)t you 
have done already in your own localiy. We are here 
but an - 

Mrs. Lloyd. Yes: but excuse me; I must go to my 
son. He seems to have received a letter, presumably 
one of mine, from the eagerness which he shows in pe- 
rusing it. I will come back and talk with you later on. 
There is much in what you «ay of this matter. (She 
crosses over to Lloyd.) Georgie. Georgie. Georgie. 
Lloyd. (Who does not hear her at first.) Oh Mum- 
my, I'm so happy! L'm so happy! It's been all ar- 
ranged. She will! She will! We're to be married. 
Mummy, to-day at five o'clock. 

Don Pancho. What! Never! Never! I shall pre- 
vent it. (To Donya Elisa.) I am speaking, dear, of 
the affair you mentioned to me. Juan shall never have 
that hen. It belongs to Maria. 

Mrs. Lloyd. Married! To-dajM I, - I, don't under- 
stand. It is impossible! 

Lloyd. (From his reading.) The priest approves of 
everything, and she will wear her white dress and a 
veil, and Sister Dorores will act as her own mother and 
give her away. Oh, she is such a darling. Jiminy! 
Don Pancho. By all the powers of light and darkness, 
this shall not be. Rather will I unseat Hell and Heav- 
en. Rather shall the earth be set adrift bumping and 



bobbing in the firmament than that this thing shall be 
allowed to come to pass. I am speaking, Elisa, of that 
hen. 

Mrs. Lloyd. But, Georgie, my son, this is too sud- 
den. You must first get tlie consent of j^our father. 
Lloyd. (Who has finished reading, with a sigh, and 
is now putting kisses on the paper.) But, Mummj', 
the Governor will do what you say. You know that 
you can twist him around your finger. And you have 
consented already. 

Mrs. Lloyd. Why, no. Georgie. I said I'd consider 
the matter. I was kindly disposed toward the girl. I 
would protect her. 

Lloyd. But look here Mummy. You'd better get me 
married. I tell you, you have no idea of the responsi- 
bility you take on your shoulders, if j^ou refuse to let 
me marry when I want to. This wild west is some- 
thing terrible. Something terrible, for a young man. 
The snares and temptations that beset a young man's 
path on every side. 

Mrs. Lloyd. Yes, I know it. I would much rather 
have you back home. 

Lloyd. But I can't go home, Mummy. You know I 
can't. The Governor wants me to strike out and niake 
my fortune. I have bargained for a ranche already, 
Mother, and you know what a western ranche life may 
become without some sweet woman's influence to keep 
it pure. To direct it in the channels of - of virtue and 
domesticity, Mummy. 

Mrs. Lloyd. Well, I'm sure Georgie there is much in 
what you say and - and I'll see the girl and if she is 
all that you represent. - - Can we call her in? 
Don Pancho. Elisa, bring me my trousers. Bring 
them instantly. Bring my shoes; bring my hat. 
Bring everything. 

Mrs. Lloyd. Do you think the old gentleman is quite 
safe? 

Lloyd. Oh, perfectly... He's a perfect gentleman. 
The old school... A real Spanish hidalgo. 
Don Pancho. The villain, the villain. The young 



villain 1 i mean Juan, for having taken that hen. 
Sister Dolores. Would it not be better, madam, if I 
took you to see the young lady. She is waiting below 
to receive you. 

Don Pancho. She shall not go, Sister, - Sister - 
Sister Dolores. My name is Sister Dolores. 
Don Pancho. Sister Dolores, I beg pardon for not 
knowing it. I would, - I v,ish to speak with you a 
moment. 

Sister Dolores. Willingly... Speak, Don Pancho 
]\[o rales. 

Don Pancho. This, - this young man who says - he 
will, - he wishes to marry the child, - oh somebody, - 
How can you permit such an abomination? The 
child, - the person, is under your protection, is she 
not? 

Sister Dolores. She is my ward, sir. She came to 
me crying and helpless, when her former guardians, 
without reason, cast her off. 

Don Pancho. No matter... You should make her en- 
ter the convent, - become a nun. Anj^thing better 
than marry that - that - gentleman, - in fact than 
marry at all. 

Sister Dolores. Pepita does not wish to enter the 
cloister. It is not the custom of the Church to go 
against the wishes of the supplicant. 
Don Pancho. Oh, damn the - - I beg j^our par- 
don, Sister Dolores, but the Padre, Don Francisco cle 
Cabeza, - he is the spiritual guardian of this outcast. 
He surely would have her enter the convent. 
Sister Dolores. On the contrary, he wishes the mar- 
riage. He approves of Don Jorge most heartily, and 
himself has made all the arrangements. Indeed, he is 
to perform the ceremony, this afternoon at half past 
five. It was onlj^ the arrival of the young gentleman's 
mother, - that may put a different light on the mat- 
ter. 

Don Pancho. Quite right! Quite right! I must 
speak to her. An excellent lady... A perfect gentle- 
v7oman... Also, I must speak to Don Francisco. 



Kindly send a messenger to him. Tell him it is im- 
portant that I speak with him. 

Sister Dolores. He is much o?cupied at present, Don 
Pancho. I will send, however, the message you desire. 
Is there anything further you would speak to me? 
Don Pancho. (Who half suspects that she is his 
daughter.) I, -yes; that is - no... Leave me!... 
Leave me! 

Sister Dolores. (To Mrs. Lloyd.) Now madam, I 
vrill conduct you to Pepita. 

Mrs. Lloyd. Well, if I must, I must. (Crying.) 
Oh Georgie. . . My darling. . . My son . . . 
Lloyd, There, Mummy... Old Mummy... Dear 
Mummy. (Embracing her.) And remember nnd be 
good to my darling. Remember I love her. I love 
her. Mummy. 

(Exit Sister Dolores and Mrs Lloyd.) 
Don Pancho. Elisa, go at once, and despatch a mes- 
senger for Don Francisco de Cabeza. I must see him 
at once. At once... It is important. Sister Dolores 
will never send. Go, I tell y^ou! 

(Exit Donya Elisa. Don Pancho sinks back, breath- 
ing heavil}' . Lloyd begins to re-read and kiss his let- 
ter quite engrossed. Don Giegorio surveys the situa- 
tion.) 

Don Gregorio. Don Pancho Morales, I am the only 
man who can help you get your will. Despise me if 
you like. Refuse to speak to me if you like. I am 
still the one man who can help you, who can speak to 
this AYoman, his mother, and get lier to have the wed- 
ding postponed. You think the prie-t, Don Francisco, 
will help you, but you are mistaken. He will not 
come, or if he comes, he Avill refuse you. You, your- 
self, are lying helpless, j^our legs paralyzed. They 
will mock you, for you are now a king no longer. I 
can help you. I alone can speak the word. 
Don Pancho. What could Don Gregorio Duval do if 
he chose? 

Don Gregorio. Exercise my right as her real father. 
The girl is not yet of age. 



Don Pancho. Don Gregorio Duval's right is not recog- 
nized by the state. 

Don Gregorio. The woman will recognize it, if the 
state will not. 

Don Pancho. The woman is in the power of her son. 
Don Gregorio. She shall be in my power when I have 
finished . 

Don Pancho. Why should Don Gregorio Duval con- 
cern himself in this matter? 

Don Gregorio. To help j^ou... You will not believe 
it? Very well, then, accept another reason. Say, to 
still show that I have power in the world. To feel that 
I have not lost, - have not lost everything. It is a bitter 
thing to feel that one has lost everj^thing. Eh? Is it 
not so, Don Pancho? 

Don Pancho. My God! My God! What do I think? 
Don Gregorio. Let me tell you what you think. Let 
me tell you. You think rather than lose your control 
over those that you have so long owned, rather than 
admit yourself helpless l)efore them, you will even 
stoop to a union with your old life-long enemy, you 
wall abet him. After all, he is a brave man and a 
gentleman. 

Don Pancho. Yes, yes! We must not forsake our 
confidence in a gentleman. All else, all else, is slip- 
ping from us. 

Don Gregorio. And after all, 3^ou do not need to al- 
ly yourself ^vith me before a man. All you need to do 
is to keep silence. Affect a sleep. It is the easiest, 
the most dignified. 

Don Pancho. Yes, yes! Why should I concern my- 
self a ])0ut the matter? I will sleep... I will sleep. . . 
I will not speak. 

Don Gregorio. It is understood, then, I am to act in 
this matter. 

Don Pancho. It is understood. It is, yes, - it is un- 
derstood. 

(Enter the Padre.) 
Don Gregorio. Don Francisco de Cabeza... Not a 

word to him. If I am to act in this matter, it must be 



alune . 

Don Pancho. What! Do you mean to sa}^ I am still 
in your power? 

Don Gregorio. If you want what you say... You are 
in my power. He cannot help you. I can. 
Padre. Ah, Don Pancho... I met Donj'a Elisa, in 
the patio. She says you wish to see me. You are 
well? (Bowing.) Don Gregorio Duval. Don Jorge. 
He does not hear me. No matter... We shall wake 
him. Was it something particular, Don Pancho? 
Don Pancho. Why, my dear boy, it is always par- 
ticular that you do not forget an old man in his afflic- 
tions. All the day I have-not seen you, save this 
morning, a shght nod as to a stranger in passing. 
Padre. I have been very busy, Don Pancho, about 
other affairs. 

Don Pancho. And now, all is arranged for your lit- 
tle wedding. 

Padre. Oh, Don Pancho, then you will speak of it? 
You will let me talk to you? 

Don Pancho. If talking means pleading, no, no! 
You must know Panchito, that above all things, I am 
a gentleman. That dishonor shall never with me ))e 
accepted or forgiven. You have known me long, Pan- 
cho, have j^ou not? Plave you ever known of my word 
once established, to be torn down? 

Padre. You have been strong, even to bitterness, Don 
Pancho. 

Don Pancho. Not bitterness... Only ju-tice, my 
boy. The light of day, is it bitter because it sees the 
rattle-snake as well as the cactus flower? Because it 
recognizes one from the other? 
Padre. It gives to both its blessings. 
Don Pancho. But it points out to the traveller the 
difference. This is poison, it says of one; the other 
is beauty. 

Padre. Don Pancho, if you only knew. If I could 
tell you. 

Don Pancho. What then do you know that you have 
not told? 



Padre. I cannot tell. 1 cannot. Do not ask me. 

(Enter Mr-^. Lloyd, with Don^^a Elisa. They are 
chatting together very friendly.) 

Mrs. Lloyd. (To Lloj^d.) What a charming little 
woman that is. Quite the lady... These Spanish 
women are certainlj^ wonderful. 

Lloyd. (Aroused from his le?tter and his dreams.) 
Mummy, you have seen her! How is she? Is she 
not beautiful, Mummy dear? Are you not proud of 
your daughter? 

^[rs. Lloyd. She is certainly an attractive little 
thing. I only wish that there were a little more regu- 
larity about this hastily planned marriage. 
Lloyd. Now Mummy, you know I need a wife. You 
know you will feel safer if I am established. 
iNlRs. Lloyd. Yes, and yet this is so very sudden. 
Lloyd. Why all marriages are sudden, Mummy. 
They've got to l;)e. Though the engagement lasts ten 
years. The marriage is sudden. 

Mrs. Lloyd. I fear she is very young and inexperi- 
enced. 

Lloyd. But look at me... I have experience enough 
for two. 1 say. Mummy, old girl, did you. kiss her? 
Mrs. Lloyd. Why, of course, I remembered my po- 
sition as your - 

Lloyd. (Throws his arms around her and kisses 
her.) You're a dear old Mummy, you are now. Jim- 
iny. 

(Enter Sister Dolores, with Pepita dressed in white 
and a veil like a girl for confirmation. The Padre 
crosses over to Lloyd's bed, and whispers to him. 
Lloyd awaits in an ecstasy of excitement. Don Pan- 
cho turns on his side, pretends to sleep. Donya Elisa 
cries softly. Don Gregorio is watchful. When Lloyd 
sees Pepita, he almost leaps out of bed, but is re- 
strained by the Padre, v.ho keeps him much in hand. 
Pepita is frightened but not shrinking. Sister Dolores 
is acting as her prompter. It is evident that she and 
the Padre are determined on this marriage. The 

ceremDny proceeds according to th^ manner of the 



Catholic Church. When the priest asks if there are 
any here who object to this man marrjdng this 
woman, Don Gregorio, partially rising in his bed, 
speaks) . 

Don Gregorio. I do! 

Padre. (Much excited, but trying to keep control.) 
May I ask on what grounds are your objections? 
Don Gregorio. That girl is my daughter. She is not 
of age. I refuse to give her in marriage. 
Sister Dolores. That is a lie! Before God, it is a lie! 
Don Pancho. What? 

Sister Dolores. I was Estella Morales. Pepita was 
my daughter... My daughter... But in God's 

name, she was never his... Never his... 
Don Pancho. What? 

Sister Dolores. (Looking at the Padre.) Her father 
was a young student, a friend of my family, not an 
enemy... He was studying for the priesthood... We 
sinned... I entered this convent. He was ordained. 
God is good... He has not trodden on our lives... 
He letteth the worm to live. He pitieth His children. 
Don Pancho. Estella! Elisa! Pepha! 
Sister Dolores. Estella is dead to the world. Pepita 
shall live... Goo 1 Father, pro3eed with the marriage. 
(Padre is going on blindly, when Don Pancho in- 
terrupts, after a struggle). 

Don Pancho. No! Stop! Don Francisco! Pepita! 
Pepita. Papa! (She breaks away from Sister Dolores 
and runs and throws her arms around Don Pancho' s 
neck.) 

Mrs. Lloyd. (No one paying any attention to her.) 
Well, if I'd known... Well! My goodness! Oh, 
Georgie, is the old gentleman - etc. - 
Don Pancho. (Getting control of himself.) Move 
the beds up closer, my son's and mine. They move 
Lloyd's bed up close to Don Pancho's. He takes 
Lloyd's hand with his right, Pepita's with his left.) 
My children! (To the Padre.) Proceed! 

(Curtain) 



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